Rain
by AkizukiSakura
Summary: After four years, Ed thought he had seen every motive for killing come and go. A recent string of murders with a disturbing MO, however, suggests that he just might have more to learn about the lengths humans will go to achieve their desires. Roy/Ed ON HIATUS
1. In Which Rain is Despised

**Title: **_Rain_  
><strong>Author: <strong>_AkizukiSakura  
><em>**Pairing(s):**_ Roy/Ed  
><em>**Spoilers/Warnings: **_As far as I know, the spoilers are minimal. This diverges from both the manga and the anime, and I wouldn't be surprised if I get some facts wrong anyway (like the ages they were when each major event occurred). Also, this is __**YAOI**__. Don't like it, don't read it. Period._  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>_I do not own _Fullmetal Alchemist._ I make no monetary profit from the writing and posting of this, or any, fanfiction.__  
><em>**Notes: **_I like Hughes. I hate that he died. So here in fanfiction land, I'm pretending he didn't. Also, I'm former military. Navy, not Army, but still; my take on the Amestrian army might be a little different than others'._

_Yes, this _does_ start out an awful lot like 'The Saffron Soul' by BeautifulFiction (if you haven't read it, go effing read it. It's one of the most amazing things on the planet). _Yes_, my story _does_ have its own plot. I'm not into stealing other people's ideas, especially not ones as beautiful as 'The Saffron Soul'. That story _was_ the motivation for me to sit my butt down and write, and it has influenced this story, but the idea for this story bubbled to my mind around the time I joined the Navy three years ago. Unsurprisingly, I didn't exactly have a lot of free time to write back then._

_Many, many thanks to _proser132 _for taking the time to edit this for content and flow. Very talented writer and beta._

**Chapter One:** In Which Rain is Despised

Squelching footsteps on fresh-waxed floors and a noticeable trail of water dripping from a long red coat proclaimed the arrival of one Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist. Those soldiers that he passed in the halls were careful to move away from the young man, noting the dark glower on his features and unwilling to invoke the rage simmering just under his skin.

To make matters absolutely abysmal, he had to see the damn Brigadier General. It had been hard enough to deal with the man when Ed was all of twelve and convinced he already knew everything. It was harder still to deal with him when he was fourteen, struggling to understand the people who could do something as terrible as Ishval, Nina, and Liore. And now that he was sixteen, and Al's body had been restored, he had to deal with the man _without_ the task of finding the Philosopher's Stone.

No one else had the kind of power over Ed that Mustang did, and he didn't mean it in the subordinate-to-superior way. He didn't know exactly what it was that drew him to Mustang. He was handsome, of course – _all_ the women in Central couldn't be wrong. He was intelligent – not like Ed or even Al, perhaps, but Mustang had a kind of knowledge that came with experience and drive along with the same keen intellect that made him a State Alchemist. These things were all well and good, but there were plenty of attractive, intelligent people in the world – people that didn't make him want to knock their teeth out.

So why the _fuck_ did it have to be _Mustang_ that he'd found this grudging respect – dare he even think _friendship –_ for? When he'd reenlisted he could have asked to change commands, he supposed, but the truth was he didn't trust anyone else. Mustang had taken him at face value and accepted not only him but also his little brother. That said a lot about the man's character, particularly when he didn't look at Ed with pity. He had _never_ pitied Ed; Mustang had given him a goal to work towards.

It didn't change the fact that every time his superior opened his mouth Ed wanted to punch him. Ed snorted in vague amusement at the happy image _that_ thought provoked, startling one of the Privates in the hall. Ed didn't even notice when his vindictive smirk caused the young soldier to break out in a sweat and hurry down the hall, taking care to stay out of the blonde's way.

Edward was seriously considering reevaluating his opinion on the existence of God – it was the only explanation he could think of as to why his life was one circus act after another. The only good that had happened in sixteen years of life was the return of his little brother's body. It had taken four long, grueling years of searching for a stone that had not been made using humans – the result was a single-use liquid with a time limit from Xing. It had nowhere near the potential of a true Philosopher's Stone but the power it contained was just adequate enough to get around Equivalent Exchange.

A glance through one of the windows he passed confirmed that it was still pouring out, probably harder than it had been a few minutes ago. He wasn't even convinced that there were individual droplets of rain coming from those clouds. It was like someone had literally picked up a lake and dropped in on Central, then sent it through an array to loop it endlessly. "Whoever it is, he's a fuckin' sadist," he muttered as the door came into view, briefly entertaining the idea of an alchemist with that kind of vindictiveness.

He shoved the door to his superior's outer office open, feeling a shiver of childish delight pass over him when the door slammed into the wall with an immensely satisfying _thud_. As the door bounced off the wall he noted gleefully that the handle had punched a hole in the drywall. The bastard deserved it for calling him in despite the abysmal weather.

He ignored the stares of Mustang's staff, though he did give the room a cursory glance as he stalked across the floor. Everyone was here except for Hawkeye; presumably she was out retrieving paperwork for that bastard. Good. That meant he could beat the crap out of the Brigadier General without her running interference.

His entrance to the General's office was no less violent than that of the outer office. He scowled when Mustang didn't even look up from his paperwork. The man had the gall to wave a negligent hand toward one of the couches, the gesture made all the more significant by the fact that he wasn't wearing his uniform jacket. This departure from the norm, however small, was enough to briefly pierce Ed's irritation as he blinked at the white shirt. Rarely had he seen Mustang not in pristine condition, whether in uniform or civilian attire.

"I'll be with you in a moment, Fullmetal," Mustang said simply as he placed another report in his outgoing pile, snapping Ed from his musings.

Edward seethed. "Like hell you will, bastard!" he snapped, kicking the door roughly closed behind him and stomping across the carpet. With some satisfaction he realized that his sodden clothing and boots would be tracking water all over the rug under his feet. He hoped it started to smell. "Do you know how fucking hard it's raining? I had to wade through a foot of water all the way from the _perimeter _to the damn_ building_!" A hundred meter dash through a foot of water was no joke.

Another folder joined the outgoing pile before Mustang finally looked up, linking his fingers and resting his elbows on the desk. He propped his chin on his hands as he surveyed his young subordinate, a hint of amusement creeping into his eyes. "I suppose it's hard for those lacking in any real height to wade, especially since you'd probably been unable to reach the sidewalk in such deep water," the man acknowledged finally, his tone infuriatingly dry.

"Who the _fuck_ are you calling_ short?"_ Ed screeched, cheeks flushing a dark red in rage. Damn that bastard! This always happened! What the hell kind of equivalency was it when he actually _respected_ the man that insulted him?

"I know your attention span is…lacking, Fullmetal, but if you recall, you owe me a report," Mustang said blandly. He ignored the Major's sputtering. "You've owed me this report for a week and a half. Perhaps if you'd turned it in on time, I wouldn't have had to call you in." He smirked faintly when Ed grumbled, backing down just slightly. With a huff the young man shoved his hand into his coat pocket, withdrawing a wrinkled, water-splattered folder and throwing it irately on Mustang's desk. In spite of his halfhearted attempt to keep the report dry, he was soaked so thoroughly that his pocket hadn't been protection enough – not that he cared.

"Bastard," Ed snapped at Mustang when the Brigadier General made no move to pick up the folder, turning instead to the pile he'd been working on. Ed knew well that he wasn't dismissed until Mustang said he was. Grumbling, he moved over to the fireplace, glad for once that Mustang nearly always had the fire lit. He would never admit it to anyone, least of all that bastard General, but the cold rain coupled with the autumn chill was causing his automail ports to ache.

Mustang's voice broke into his thoughts. "You may as well take off your coat and have a seat, Fullmetal. In addition to taking your report I have another assignment to give you."

Ed turned on Mustang with a snarl on his lips but, before he could enunciate a suitably scathing reply his superior favored him with a surprisingly deep look. The words died on Ed's lips, his anger fading to be replaced with grudging concern. "Why can't you just give me the mission right now? What's the point of drying out just to go back out in that?" He gestured to the buckets of water sluicing the glass behind Mustang. Despite it being midmorning it was dark enough – and wet enough – that even the parade grounds and courtyard were invisible. "And what do you mean you have a mission for me, anyway?" Ed snapped. "You just said you wouldn't have called me in if I'd turned in my report earlier!"

"I was waiting on Hughes," Mustang informed Edward as the blonde pulled off his coat and jacket, hanging them up on the coat rack near the fire to dry. Ed sprawled on the couch with his usual grace, arms resting on the back of the sofa. Hearing voices outside his door, Mustang got to his feet as his office door opened again – this time with more decorum – to reveal Hawkeye and Maes.

"Yo, Roy!" Hughes greeted, one hand upraised, before his green gaze settled on Ed. "And Ed's here, too." The Colonel ignored the unspoken _of course I'm here, stupid_ in Ed's glare and settled on one of the couches as Hawkeye quietly shut the door.

"As to the mission, this came in after Hawkeye phoned you to bring in your report," Mustang said calmly, glancing at Hughes to acknowledge the man's presence. "If you were staying in the dormitories, you wouldn't have been out in the rain nearly as long."

"Like hell I'd make Al sleep on those uncomfortable damn bunks now that he's–" Ed began hotly, only for the rest of his statement to be cut off by a hand on his mouth. For a man with an old bullet lodged in his chest near his shoulder, Hughes moved quickly. Before Ed could be suitably enraged, Hughes leaned closer.

"It's a common practice of the military to scatter listening devices in the rooms of the higher-ranking officers," he murmured quietly to Ed. "It's good that your brother decided to take off his armor," he added at a normal volume, stepping away and casting an appraising look at Ed. The blonde folded his arms irritably, golden eyes sharp as he nodded slightly to Hughes.

Mustang gestured for Ed and Hughes to sit down, a folder clasped in one gloved hand. Muttering, and only marginally drier, Ed sat down. The Brigadier General handed him the folder. "We've been handed a case from the police," he said without preamble, watching Edward flick open the folder and page through it. Within moments the blond was absorbed in the words, the index finger of his right hand tapping his lips. So focused on the case file he was utterly oblivious to the fact that Mustang had grown silent and was watching him with a rare degree of gravity in his level black eyes.

"A serial killer?" Ed asked finally, nose wrinkling irately as he glanced at Mustang. For a moment he paused, blinking, as his stare clashed with the Brigadier General's. Ed floundered briefly, nonplussed by the depth of the other man's expression. "Isn't that what the police are for? Why hand this sort of thing over to us?" he asked finally. Inwardly, he wondered _what the hell was that? _His too-old golden gaze shifted to Hughes when the Colonel deigned to explain.

"They've been working this case for almost three months with no breakthrough, Ed," he informed the young man. "Thirteen victims – all blonde, mostly children around the age of ten or eleven." Ed blanched, flicking through the photographs included in the case file. "Until this morning Samantha Prewitt was missing and had been for almost a week. They found her body tucked into an alley on the east side of Central.

Mustang took up the narrative, moving over to rifle through the photos until he found the one he wanted. The girl in the photograph was a very fair blonde with wide green eyes framed in a heavy fringe of eyelashes. From the very, very gentle swell of her naked chest she was a bit older than the killer's usual MO – maybe thirteen or even fourteen.

Ed's eyes were immediately drawn to the array carved into her stomach. "Fuck," he whispered, lightly tracing it with a gloved fingertip. He didn't notice both Hughes and Mustang watching him. "What the hell kind of array is this?" The circle was nothing like the arrays he – or any other alchemist he'd encountered – used. It was more intricate even than the Human Transmutation circle he'd designed to retrieve his brother and full of archaic symbols that he didn't even vaguely recognize.

Mustang and Hughes traded looks. "The Deputy Inspector said that this was the first victim that had any signs of an array and sent it immediately to us," Hughes said quietly. "The orders for you to investigate come directly from Fuhrer Grumman."

"I don't like it," Mustang remarked, crossing his arms and gazing out the window. The rain showed no signs of slackening. "The MO is for young blondes. You're the best person to research this sort of thing, but we have no clues as to who the killer might be and you're just the type of victim he or she might be after."

Ed leapt to his feet, outraged. "Who are you calling a kid who could pass for ten years old?" he yelled indignantly.

"You _are_ a kid, Fullmetal," Mustang replied dryly, hiding a smirk.

"I'm sixteen fucking years old, you bastard!" Ed howled. Only Hughes' hand on his shoulder, pressing gently but insistently, kept Ed from leaping at Mustang. The Colonel pressed the blonde back into the couch.

"Listen, Ed… All teasing aside," he ignored Ed's muttered curse and Roy's hastily smothered chuckle, "we know you're the best for this. I can honestly say that you're the most intelligent researcher we have. But you're also impulsive and a magnet for trouble."

"Get to the damn point, Hughes. Am I getting these orders or not?" Ed snapped.

The Brigadier General sighed. "The point, Fullmetal, is that we're trying to warn you to be careful." Golden eyes swiveled to him in utter shock. Roy suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, prompting another faint blush from Ed. Habit dictated his responses but Ed knew the older man was just looking out for him. "Don't take any unnecessary risks. We want the killer caught but not at the expense of losing a State Alchemist."

Ed grumbled. "I'm always careful," he informed his superiors with a scowl. "It's not my fault that I always get stuck with the people who've gone off the deep end." He got to his feet, folder in hand. "If I'm going to get to work…?" Ed added, glaring at Mustang. He was waiting for a dismissal.

Hughes, too, rose, wincing as muscle and skin pulled against the old bullet wound. "I've got my own paperwork to take care of," he said with his usual lopsided grin, running a hand through his hair. "Plus, I've been away from my photographs of my beautiful Elysia and Gracia for far too long!" His took off his glasses, polishing them with a handkerchief. "Keep me updated, Roy!" he announced as he left the room, pulling the door shut.

Mustang shook his head and went back to his desk. "You may as well sit back down, Fullmetal." When Ed gave him a blank look the Brigadier General smirked. "I still have to look over your report."

In the outer office Mustang's men blinked at the closed door, shaking their heads, smiling, or wincing depending on their natures. Ed and the General could never seem to be alone in a room for longer than thirty seconds without Ed yelling. Less than a minute later a fuming Edward yanked open the door, slammed it shut, and proceeded to pull on his jacket and coat, muttering all the while about smug Brigadier Generals and their bastardly smirks.

* * *

><p>The smell of stew wound through his senses as Ed opened the door to the small two-bedroom flat he and Al shared, doing wonders to perk him up despite the impression of a drowned cat his coat and hair lent him.<p>

"I'm home, Al," he called as he stripped off coat, jacket, and boots, dropping them carelessly on the floor of the hallway. His brother poked his head out of the kitchen, his burnished bronze stare dropping disapprovingly to the clothes on the floor.

"Welcome home, brother. Your clothes will smell if you don't put them in the wash," Al rebuked his brother softly. Ed sniffed, meandering into the kitchen to drop the case file on the table. Unlike his report, he'd taken better care of the file, tucking it under his sleeveless vest to try and keep it dry – though it was still noticeably damp.

"I'll take care of 'em in a minute, Al. I'm going to grab a shower anyway. Damn rain," he grumbled. "Damn Brigadier General for calling me out in the rain."

Alphonse shook his head. "If you didn't put off turning in your reports…" he began, but Edward had already disappeared to grab up his discarded clothes and wander off for a shower. Al sighed faintly. "You make things so complicated, brother," he remarked to the air instead, turning to go back to the stew simmering on the stove. The file on the table caught his attention and he hesitated, wanting to read it, before shrugging. His brother would tell him about it later.

Ed grumbled all the way to the bathroom, tossing his sopping clothing aside as he twisted the taps to run the shower. He ached from the chill of the rain and his mind tumbled with the specifics of his new assignment as he stepped under the warm spray of water. Despite the difficulties he knew were ahead – he was going to be spending a lot of time in the library to understand that strange array – he couldn't help but go over the meeting in his head. His thoughts invariably led him right back to Mustang.

"Damn it," he hissed, dipping his head back to let the water smooth his hair as he reached for the shampoo. "What was _with_ him today, anyway?" he wondered aloud, pausing with the bottle in his hand. Ed had seen all kinds of emotion on Mustang's face – when the man dropped his masks, anyway, which was rarely. He'd seen anger, sarcasm, interest… Nothing, however, came close to the dark, almost measuring way Mustang had looked at him today.

It was fucking weird, and a little disconcerting. They'd known each other for four years now – five if Ed wanted to count the year of rehabilitation after the automail surgery. Why did the man pick _now_ of all times to change the rules of their game? It didn't make any sense. Unless Mustang was just trying to catch him off guard?

Remembering the bottle in his hand, Ed shook his thoughts of Mustang away and lathered his hair. It was a pain to only be able to wash his hair with one hand, but the first time he'd forgotten about his automail hand he'd gotten it caught in his hair and Auntie had to cut his hair free. Not only had it been painful but it was also embarrassing so Ed made it a point to make sure he kept his automail away from his hair.

Turning off the taps, he snagged a towel from the shelves in the corner, still thinking. He paused, brow furrowed, before scowling in defeat. Fuck it. If Mustang expected him to play along with being jerked around, the General had another thing coming!

He dried swiftly, swiping the towel over the fogged mirror. His reflection stared back at him through the water droplets on the reflective surface: pursed lips, narrowed eyes, wet hair – and scars. So many scars. Scars from his fights, scars from his automail – even the scar from where he'd fallen out of that tree when he was six.

Muttering darkly again, he turned away, wrapping the towel around his waist and scooping up his clothes. Pausing long enough to dump them in the wash, he padded down the hall to his room to dress. Emerging a few minutes later in fresh trousers and his usual black vest, he slipped back into the kitchen just as Al was setting a bowl of stew on the table. They smiled at each other.

"Feeling better, brother?" Al asked kindly as Ed sat down and picked up his spoon. He waited until Al was seated with his own bowl of stew to respond.

"I guess. I think it's this new case that's got me all wound up," he said, spooning stew into his mouth. Noting the expression on Al's face he felt his cheeks heat and looked away. Al really was way too perceptive sometimes. He'd realized what Ed was feeling before Ed himself had discovered why he suddenly started noticing things about Mustang. Al could always tell when Ed was wound up over the General.

Al cleared his throat quietly. "You know, brother…" Ed watched his little brother through his eyelashes, pretending to be intent on his stew. "I won't bother you about this, because it's your life and your decision… But if you don't tell the Brigadier General, he won't know, and things will never change."

"Are you crazy?" Ed yelped, dropping his pretense – and his spoon. It landed on the table with a dull _thunk_, splattering stew on the table. Ed ignored it. "Tell that bastard? And give him even more ammunition against me? No, thanks. I'd as soon let this stupid _crush_ fade on its own then give the man even more reason to mock me."

Al sighed, nibbling on a piece of bread. "I don't think you're giving the Brigadier General enough credit, Ed. I mean, I know you two fight a lot, but it doesn't seem to be as hostile as it used to be, before…" He trailed off, but the words _before I got my body back_ lingered in the air, unspoken.

Ed blew his bangs out of his face; they settled resolutely back in his eyes as he opened his mouth, but Al wasn't finished.

"I'm not saying that you should confess all at once. But maybe you could try, you know, turning your reports in on time and _not_ antagonizing him every chance you get. It's easier to find that you like someone when you aren't stuck on _disliking_ them."

Silence stretched between them for several minutes, the only sounds being the clink of spoons on cheap stoneware. Finally Ed pushed his bowl away. "I'll think about it," he mumbled. Al beamed at him.

"That's all I can ask." His gaze dropped to the folder on the table. "So, you want to talk about this new case? Since it's bothering you so much?"

* * *

><p>Another day, another meeting with Fullmetal, another battle with the urge to do something entirely inappropriate to the blonde. The day had started out like any other, too.<p>

Wake up at 0600, haul his ass out of bed to put on the kettle for coffee, drag himself to the shower. It wasn't until he was partway through soaping his body when he remembered that today was Wednesday. He cursed under his breath. Today was the deadline for Fullmetal's report to be turned in to Lieutenant General Rush – his superior. A report, moreover, that Ed hadn't given him yet.

Despite the irritation blooming in his mind, thinking about the report brought his thoughts to his young blonde subordinate, and the images of flashing gold eyes, tanned skin, and black leather had their usual effect on his body. He groaned, adjusting the temperature of the shower to cold. It was going to be a long day. Certainly he could take care of his _issue_ in a different manner, but jerking off to thoughts of the young Major – who'd been in his command since he was twelve! – was not how he wanted to start his day.

With the first mug of coffee doing wonders for his mind, he dared to hope his day might improve. Then he pushed the curtains hanging on the window over the kitchen sink aside, saw the weather, and gave up on the day being anything but miserable. Not only was it raining – scratch that, it was _pouring_ _goddamn buckets_ – but he had left his umbrella and his military issue raincoat in the office the last time it had rained.

That was just peachy. As he grabbed his gloves from the table in the entryway he had to wonder if it was even worth it to put them on. They'd be soaked within the twenty steps it took to get to the car Havoc had pulled up to his gate. Shaking his head, he stepped outside, locked his door, and took a deep breath. While his stoop was protected, he knew he was about to get very, very wet.

Roy _hated_ being soaked by rain, especially _cold_ rain. He was the Flame Alchemist. He liked warm and fire, not cold and water. He dithered for a moment under the protection of his roof but knew if he waited too much longer he'd be late and Hawkeye would favor him with that reproving glare she was so good at.

Hardly caring about his image – and it wasn't like his neighbors could see him in this downpour, anyway – the usually sedate Brigadier General made a mad dash for the car in question, slamming into the vehicle and pulling the door shut decisively. Havoc glanced in the mirror and raised a single eyebrow. "No umbrella or coat, Chief?" he asked in surprise.

"Just drive, Havoc," Roy snapped, already irritated. His subordinate shrugged.

"Sure thing, sir," he replied, throwing the car in gear and easing away from the curb. Normally a very careful driver, today Havoc drove even more judiciously, fingers tight on the steering wheel. This sort of weather was just the type that caused wrecks by less-than-wary drivers. Luckily, they reached headquarters without incident and Roy was forced to make another dash in the rain, only slightly mollified by the sight of usually prideful generals doing the same, even those who had remembered their coats.

At least he wasn't the only one who disliked braving this rain.

He ignored those that stared at him and hid smiles as he stalked through the hallway, hair plastered to his head and uniform dripping. If his gloves weren't utterly useless right now he knew no one would dare laugh but, as it was, everyone knew fire didn't work so well with water.

At least one thing had gone right today: he made it into the office just as the clock struck seven. Hawkeye raised her eyebrows at his close shave but said nothing. Roy wondered, not for the first time, just who was in charge here. The blonde woman handed him a mug of coffee. Peering into it, trying to decide if he was tired enough to brave office coffee, he remembered something.

"Someone call Fullmetal and tell him to get his report in within the hour," he ordered, sipping cautiously at the beverage and making a face. The tar-like consistency identified it as Breda's turn to make coffee today. He looked up in time to catch Hawkeye's stare. Knowing she was thinking about the rain and the lack of warning he was giving the Major, Roy gave in to the uncharacteristic desire to roll his eyes. "He's been putting it off for almost two weeks, Lieutenant. It's not my fault that the weather on the day _I_ have to rout it is so terrible."

Hawkeye still disapproved, but the Brigadier General was right. "I'll phone him right now, sir," she said reluctantly. "Also, sir, Colonel Hughes is waiting for you in your office." Correctly interpreting the question in her superior's eyes she gave a tiny shake of her head – Hughes wasn't here to blabber on about his family. He murmured his thanks distractedly and pushed open the door to his office.

To his surprise Hughes didn't even look up. "Morning, Roy," he said simply, obviously poring over something. Brow furrowed, Roy set his mug down on his desk, grabbed the dry gloves waiting for him – courtesy of Hawkeye – and walked over to his friend to peer over his shoulder. Maes was holding a case file open in one hand and reading the contents with a scowl on his usual genial features. Roy glanced at the grate, noting that it was already loaded with wood, and clicked his fingers distractedly. Fire, warm and cheery, erupted to start its merry consumption of the wood.

"What brings you here so early?" Roy asked when Hughes still didn't look up, stripping off his uniform jacket and hanging it up to dry. Green eyes glanced up from the file. Maes' lips twisted in a grimace as he wordlessly handed the file over. Roy took it with no small amount of trepidation and began to skim the contents. His pallor, normally pale, took on an almost pasty hue as he flicked through the photos included. Without a word he sat on the couch opposite Maes to read.

Hughes sat back against his sofa, sagging a little. "That report landed on my desk this morning," he informed his friend. Despite the fact that Roy was a rank higher, Maes' work in Intelligence meant that he had positional authority to delegate tasks. "Police have been working on it for around three months. That last victim?" He could tell by the way Roy was staring at a photo that he was looking at the victim in question. "When they found her, they called in the military. Alchemists fall under our jurisdiction."

"You want Fullmetal on this case?" Roy asked, closing the folder and setting it down. From his expression, Hughes knew he was surprised. Hughes' feelings toward Edward and Alphonse Elric were well known: he considered the boys his surrogate sons. For him to willingly seek out Edward for such a dangerous case was baffling.

Hughes pinched the bridge of his nose. "I forgot to bring them, but the orders for Ed came down from Grumman." He saw the faint widening of Roy's eyes and felt a smile crawl briefly over his features. It wasn't often that the Fuhrer micromanaged like this. "I'm just the messenger in this case, Roy, but the killer's MO worries me…"

Silence draped the room, broken only by the crackle of sparks. "Fullmetal should be here within the hour," Roy said finally. "Go get his orders and meet me back here at 0830. If I tell him to be careful he'll just blow me off. If _you_ tell him he might actually think about it." Maes' light chuckle lessened the bitter air in the room a little.

"I'll be here," Hughes promised, getting to his feet and lifting his hand in a casual wave, shutting the door behind him and leaving Roy to stand in front of the fire, arms crossed and deep in thought.

By the time Edward arrived, _fifteen minutes late, no less_, Roy was seated behind his desk signing papers and reading through reports. The blonde made his usual loud entrance and Roy had to work hard to keep from looking up and snapping at the young man. He managed to keep his attention on his paperwork, mouth working on autopilot to tell Fullmetal he'd take care of him in a moment. Ed reacted predictably enough that Roy listened with only half an ear.

Only when he'd finished the report he was currently working on did he look up, a smirk curving his lips as he drew Ed into their traditional bait-and-rant session before telling the blonde to take off his coat and have a seat. The chance to watch Ed stalk over to the couch without that red coat covering him was worth the glare he received for his comments. He had no idea what made Ed favor leather, especially on a rainy day, but it was clear that the blonde had not bothered with an umbrella – not that it would have made much of a difference – from the way the material clung to his trim hips and toned ass.

Hastily Roy jerked on the proverbial reins of his thoughts, drawing them away from that path. Whatever else, Edward was his subordinate and barely legal despite the fact that he had been considered an adult since joining the army at the tender age of twelve. These thoughts were entirely inappropriate.

Roy had been telling himself that for months and it hadn't helped abate the heated interest that curled languidly through his body whenever he saw the young blonde. Even so, Ed _trusted_ him. That trust was a fragile thing, especially given that Ed had only realized that not all adults were worthless thanks to Roy and his team. Most of the adults Ed had dealt with, Roy recalled grimly, were either corrupt military officials or crazy alchemists bent on destroying the country – or at least throwing it into severe anarchy. He didn't want to lose that trust or the very, _very _grudging respect he'd managed to earn.

He shook his head slightly in an attempt to clear his thoughts from the path they'd wandered down, scrawling his signature over yet another report – a requisition for a State Alchemist to rebuild a town in the east that had suffered from some sort of laboratory explosion. If not for the fact that he already had a mission to give Fullmetal this one would have been right up the brat's alley. As it was he'd pass it on to Major Armstrong later.

Why did Ed have to be all brilliance and gold and strength and determination? Ed wasn't ambitious. His brother was at the university right now, taking all sorts of classes and learning everything he could, and Edward had renewed his contract with the army only a few months ago – around the same time he'd restored Alphonse, actually – completely surprising everyone who knew him personally. To this day he'd given no reason for his actions. He'd turned down offers of promotion for years now, so if he was going to make the army a career he was going about it oddly. Maybe he took that _Hero of the People_ epithet seriously?

Roy shrugged mentally. Whatever the reason, Edward was still here, still in the army, and still under his command. All his happy fantasies needed to stay firmly in the realm of dreams. It was just so much easier said than done. He watched Ed plop down on the sofa nearest the fire, arms thrown over the back. Firelight danced over the exposed metal of his automail and highlighted the golden skin allowed to peep around his black tank top.

Ed's voice broke into his thoughts, as it so often did. "Why can't you just give me the mission right now? What's the point of drying out just to go back out in that?" He gestured to the window behind Roy's desk. A quick glance as Roy got to his feet revealed that, yes, it was still pouring ungodly amounts of rain. "And what do you mean you have a mission for me, anyway?" Ed snapped. "You just said you wouldn't have called me in if I'd turned in my report earlier!"

Luckily, Hughes chose that moment to return and Ed's attention shifted to the other man. Roy noted with interest that despite Ed's irritated expression his amber gaze softened considerably. Roy knew Ed still felt guilty about the bullet that was forever lodged in Hughes' chest. If it had been half an inch to the left Hughes wouldn't be here at all, and it was investigating for Edward that had drawn attention to Maes enough for that _thing_ to try and end his life.

Ed reacted predictably to the mission – horror at the array, irritation at Roy's attempt to get him to be careful, grudging acquiescence to Roy's words when Maes added his two Cens. Roy was a little surprised that Fullmetal gave in so easily but he surmised it had to do more with Hughes' presence than anything. With the mission explained Maes got to his feet, announced his desire to get back to his paperwork – and photographs – and left. Ed probably would have followed if Roy hadn't reminded the blonde that he still needed to look over his report.

Riling Ed up was always too easy, particularly when he was already irritated, but in the end Roy let his subordinate snatch his coat and jacket and stalk out of the office. He felt uneasy watching the blonde leave. Ed had grudgingly agreed to be careful, but Roy didn't take much heart in those words. Ed was the type to rush headlong into danger without thinking. Roy drummed his fingers on the desk for several long moments, scowling darkly. Making a decision Roy got up and opened his door.

"Sir?" questioned Havoc when the Brigadier General glanced around the room, obviously looking for something. Noting that Hawkeye was still out, Roy turned his attention to Havoc and the next in the chain of command.

"Get a hold of Major Armstrong and ask if he can spare Sergeant Major Brosh and First Lieutenant Ross to keep a _discrete_ eye on Fullmetal," Roy stated, brushing his hair idly from his eyes. He ignored the questioning look Falman, Fuery, and Breda gave him, though he knew they were wondering what Ed was up to that he needed bodyguards. "Also, let him know that I have a mission to pass on to him."

Havoc picked up the phone and dialed, relaying Roy's request to Armstrong. Hanging up, he nodded to Roy. "They're on their way out now, Chief," he said quietly, "and the Major said he'd be by later for the mission." Roy crossed his arms, gloved fingers tapping on his bicep idly. He ought to feel more relieved but, somehow, he wasn't. He was concerned for Ed's welfare. The last time a serial killer had been out and Ed had been a potential target was when Scar was still running around and look how _that_ had ended up: Ed's arm busted and Al's armor falling to pieces.

It didn't help that the last victim had an array carved into her chest. It was strange that she was the only one of the thirteen victims with any signs of alchemy being involved in her death and that Ed was so obviously worried about the array in question. It was rare that Edward could not identify an array on sight and Roy found that this only increased his worry.

Roy hated mysteries like this. They never tended to be solved without bloodshed.

* * *

><p>Despite the rain keeping most folk indoors, there was someone out, huddled in a dark coat with an equally dark hood. There was nothing to show whether or not the person in question was male or female – the face was hidden and the figure swathed with bulky fabric.<p>

The person was tucked into the shadow of an alley, ignoring the water dripping from the eaves of the buildings as it observed the entrance to Central's First Branch library. It kept absolutely still – the better to not draw any attention – as another figure appeared, trotting down the street. Dressed in black and red, hood up, the figure turned to pass through the gates of the library, displaying the Flamel symbol on his back.

The one who lurked in the shadows felt a smile curve lips that were tinged blue with cold. The military was so predictable. Carve a circle on someone's chest and suddenly they needed to research it – and who better to research it then their young protégé, the Fullmetal Alchemist?

The smile fell, morphing into a silent snarl, as two other figures appeared, both dressed in the blue of the Amestrian army. Bodyguards, it seemed. No matter. The skulking figure didn't keep military hours. There would be time later to retrieve the boy – but not too much time. The sooner, the better. Patience was a virtue, greed was a sin, and sins were _so_ much easier to cope with.

_Word Count: 6,725_

_A/N: __Hisashiburi desu, ne? As it happens, today is the two year anniversary of my marriage, and tomorrow my daughter is seven months old! So I guess this is a little present to me, from me. For everyone else, hope you enjoy!_

_I'd like to address one of my pet peeves on this series here. Roy is _not_ the Commanding Officer! Whichever General is in charge of his department is the CO and, barring that, the Fuhrer is the CO. Roy is simply the highest accessible officer in the chain of command that we see in the series._

_Here's hoping that I can finish this story._


	2. In Which There is Equivalent Exchange

**Title: **_Rain  
><em>**Author: **_AkizukiSakura  
><em>**Pairing(s):**_ Roy/Ed  
><em>**Spoilers/Warnings: **_As far as I know, the spoilers are minimal. This diverges from both the manga and the anime, and I wouldn't be surprised if I get some facts wrong anyway (like the ages they were when each major even occurred). Also, this is __**YAOI**__. Don't like it, don't read it. Period._  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>_I do not own _Fullmetal Alchemist._ I make no monetary profit from the writing and posting of this, or any, fanfiction.  
><em>**Notes: **_I like Hughes. I hate that he died. So here in fanfiction land, I'm pretending he didn't. Also, I finally have my facts straight for this story. I've got so many different stories swimming around in my head that it was getting difficult. Does that mean faster updates? I don't know. My daughter tends to put a damper on my writing. She's in that needy stage right now._

_There is some OOC in this chapter, but I tried to make the OOC less, you know, OOC than it could have been. Hopefully it worked._

_Many, many thanks to _proser132 _for taking the time to edit this for content and flow. Very talented writer and beta._

**Chapter Two**: In Which There is Equivalent Exchange

Golden eyes narrowed in a baleful glare at the dossier resting innocuously on the polished oak table. _With the cover closed_, Ed mused with a sigh, _I could almost think the folder holds just another report_. Unfortunately, it actually held the details of the serial murder case and the photos of dead blonde children. Ed had seen some pretty fucked up things over the years but somehow the depths of cruelty a human was willing to sink to still managed to astound him.

What was even more surprising was the cause of death for the victims. It was the same for every single child, including the most recent one, and it was utterly baffling. Aside from the array carved onto the last girl, none of the children showed any signs of murder. There were no strangulation marks. There was no sign of blunt trauma to the head. No indication of drowning, no trace of poison. It was as though every single one of them had simply stopped living.

It was frightening. The only thing Ed could think of that would kill someone so quietly was alchemy. Even so, the array in the photograph had nothing to do with murder.

He blew out a sigh that ruffled his bangs briefly, lifting the golden strands from his face as he plonked his chin down on the desk and glared unseeingly at the sky just visible from the library's upper windows. He didn't understand this killer at all. Why children? Why _blonde_ children in particular? Did he just have some sort of weird pedophilic fetish? But that wasn't right. None of the children had been violated at all. Even the marks on their wrists and ankles – marks of restraint – were faint, as though the cuffs had been padded to save them unnecessary pain.

He growled, eyes dropping to the copy of the array he'd drawn. There were only so many times he could look at a dead child, array or no, and it was just easier to research this stupid thing if he didn't have to see the girl's open, blank eyes every time he tried to study it. Even so, he'd been at this for several hours and he _still_ didn't understand the array. At one point he'd been tempted to throw the entire report out the window, it was frustrating him so much. Instead he'd visibly reigned in his temper and shifted his focus instead to pondering the killer's motives. This proved to be a mistake, as the only evidence of the culprit killing for anything other than simple sadism was the array that Ed was struggling with.

He sat up again, drawing the sheet of paper closer and scowling at it. He'd broken the damn thing down into its basic components, cross-referenced the sigils and markings, and still he was coming up with a blank. Even the tomes containing some of the oldest alchemical symbols were useless here. In desperation he'd tried Xingian references but those, too, yielded no answers to the endless questions swimming through his mind.

What was the killer trying to do with this array? Normally Ed didn't have to struggle like this. An array was like a simple mathematical equation to him: Each symbol represented one thing and one thing only. By stringing together the symbols, one could determine the basic purpose of an equation. It was the same with an array, though there were the added nuisances of figuring out the energy flow.

In another way an alchemical array was like an electrical schematic. There were symbols to act as inductors or capacitors, resistors, even diodes to reverse the flow of power. Ed was very good at reading and understanding arrays, but this one… He nibbled idly on the end of his braid, tipping his head back to stretch his neck muscles. It was almost as if the array wasn't supposed to do _anything_. But if that was the case, then why carve it onto a little girl? What was the purpose?

The scrape of a plate being slid across the table brought his musings back to the present with an almost audible thump. He dropped his gaze to the plate in question, blinked at the sandwich that adorned it, and glanced at the hand still attached to the plate. He blinked again, noting the pristine white gloves with their distinctive red array, and looked up into a familiar dark stare.

"Mustang…" Ed frowned at him as the Brigadier General put a glass of lemonade down by the plate and settled quite serenely in the chair opposite him. Ed glanced at the plate again, flushing faintly when his stomach decided to protest the fact that he'd skipped lunch, letting him know in no uncertain terms that he was a horrible master for treating his body this way. He snagged the plate and drew it closer, knowing before he glanced at Mustang again that the man would be smirking.

"I knew you'd skip lunch," the General remarked with a faint hint of a sigh as he braced an elbow on the desk and cradled his head with his palm, giving Ed a rather reproving stare.

Ed ignored it in favor of the sandwich, tipping his chair back on its hind legs as he ate. "I don't know why you care," he said between bites, glaring balefully at the man for daring to interrupt his research – never mind that Mustang was trying to be nice. Times like this reminded Ed why he had a crush on Mustang to begin with, but that didn't mean he had to like it. "It's not like I haven't done it before, and I'll do it a lot more before I die, I'm sure." He polished off the sandwich in record time and drained the lemonade. To his surprise he was still hungry. Mustang's faint chuckle drew his attention – and his ire. "What the hell's so funny, General Bastard?" he demanded with a scowl.

Mustang leaned back in his chair, viewing his young subordinate through his eyelashes. The effect – similar to a bedroom stare – made Ed uncomfortably warm. "Fullmetal… You have no idea what time it is, do you?" the General asked sociably, though it was clear from his expression that, though phrased as a question, his words were a statement of fact. Ed blinked at him and slid his watch from his pocket, flicking it open and glancing at the time. He did a double take. It was well past five in the evening now. Had he really been at this _that_ long?

"Tch. No wonder I'm still hungry." He'd missed breakfast and lunch, not that he was going to admit that to Mustang, and if it hadn't been for his superior he'd have missed dinner too. He glanced back down at the array, scowled fiercely at it, and picked up his pen. "Whatever. I'm not done." To his utter surprise Mustang stood up, reached out, and stole his pen. With a snarl he tried to grab it back but Mustang, the bastard, held it out of his reach. "Give it back, you prick!" he snapped irately, reaching for it.

"You need to take better care of yourself, Edward," Mustang said firmly, and it was his usage of Ed's name more than anything that surprised the younger man. Ed stared at his superior, hand still frozen in the act of reaching for the pen. "I realize that this is an important case, but you won't do us – or those children – any good at all if you make yourself ill."

Ed swelled with outrage. "I'm not a goddamn child, Mustang! I know the limits of my own fucking body, thank you very much. I pushed harder than this when I was working to help Al." He rose on his toes, flesh hand braced on the desk to make another grab for the pen. Mustang pulled it away from him and tucked the pen into his breast pocket.

"Come and get some dinner with me and I'll give it back," the General said finally. "I know you aren't a child, Fullmetal, and after all this time I'd think you'd realize that I know very well how capable you are of _handling_ your body." Those black eyes glanced briefly to Ed's right arm, pointedly. "That doesn't mean you can't take a thirty minute break to see to your own needs."

Ed glared at him, fists clenching on top of the table, but an insistent rumble from his stomach made him sigh and drop his head, shoulders slumping in defeat. "Fine, fine, dinner. You're paying, though." He expected, and got, Mustang's raised eyebrow. "You're the one pulling me away from my work and insisting I eat. You can pay," Ed snapped. He stretched idly, black tank top pulling away from the waistband of his trousers. His spine cracked in several places, prompting him to wince. "Don't even start," he warned Mustang when the man opened his mouth to comment, grabbing his red coat from the back of the chair.

Mustang shrugged, surprising Ed a little. "All right, I won't say anything, and I'll pay. But I pick the place."

One of the nice things about dining in Central, Ed thought with a happy sigh, was the variety of food, not just in ethnicity but also in varying stages of formality. For a superior and subordinate grabbing dinner, a sit-down restaurant might have seemed odd, particularly because Mustang was still in uniform and Ed was a very distinctive figure in the city. The last thing either of them needed was rumors circulating. Ed didn't particularly care what people thought of him, but Mustang had to worry about what the brass might say.

Instead Mustang purchased Xingian food from a vendor in a truck and he and Ed sat on a bench near the fountain in Central Square to consume greasy chicken, rice, and beef. Ed devoured his with his usual enthusiasm, wielding the pair of wooden sticks with the ease of practice. Mustang was a little more sedate and gave up on his sticks in favor of a fork when he managed to drop beef in his lap. To his chagrin, and Ed's barely stifled amusement, it left a grease stain. Whatever else Mustang had to say about kiosk Xingian, though, it was definitely better than food from the mess hall.

"Why are you even bothering with this, General?" Ed spoke up suddenly, breaking their surprisingly civil silence. When Mustang slanted a surprised glance at him Ed rolled his eyes and stuffed another piece of chicken in his mouth. "You can give me all the crap you want about taking care of myself and all that shit, but you never bothered with it before," he grumbled, swallowing. "So, what's changed?"

Mustang examined his rice with more interest than Ed thought the grains really deserved, but the blonde recognized the guarded look on his superior's face. For whatever reason, Mustang was being particularly choosey with his words right now. His dark eyes flicked around the square, taking note of each person in their vicinity and analyzing them. "Fullmetal… You know what my ambitions are, yes?" he asked finally, startling a nod from the younger man. "I've had my team for a long time," he explained softly. "They all know what I want, and they've all pledged their assistance and absolute loyalty to my cause."

Ed listened quietly as the man actually deigned to answer. He hadn't expected an honest answer from Mustang; that was for certain. "I never did any of that," Ed reminded the other alchemist quietly. Instead of irritating Mustang, though, Ed's words caused a slight smile to curve the older man's lips.

"I'm aware of that, Fullmetal," he remarked. "And that's what's changed. I invited you to join the army when you were a child. I manipulated things so that you would be placed under my command." He lightly flicked the stars on his shoulders. "And I have benefited greatly from your honest nature and strong sense of justice. The respect that the people have for you will transfer to me when the time comes."

He didn't explain what 'the time' was, but Ed didn't need him to – particularly not in a crowded square where potential spies could be lurking. The top brass did not like Mustang. He was too shrewd, too observant, but mostly he was too kind to his soldiers and his people. Men who wanted power and wealth did not want to waste money helping the common people, despite that being the army's purpose.

"I think, after so many years of my reaping the rewards from your actions, that perhaps I can look out for you, as well. Equivalent exchange, right?" Mustang finished. Ed glanced up at him and found himself pinned rather helplessly by the deepest look he'd ever received from anyone. Without breaking eye contact, the Brigadier General got to his feet and leaned down so that only Ed could hear him. "You shine, Edward," he murmured seriously. "Everyone who meets you – who _knows_ you – can see it. I won't see that glowing potential of yours fade away."

For a moment – a moment that, for Ed, was an eternity – they only stared at one another; Flame's gaze serious, Fullmetal's thoughtful. At last Ed nodded once. Mustang gave him a faint smile, reached into his pocket, and offered Ed his pen back. Ed stared at it for a moment, seemed to make up his mind about something, and closed Mustang's fingers around the pen. "I'll pick it up tomorrow. I think I'll leave off for the night," Ed said finally, blushing faintly at the open approval in his superior's lacquer-black eyes. "Besides… Al's probably waiting up for me anyway."

Ed got to his feet, gathering up their empty containers and pitching them casually into the nearest garbage bin. He glanced at the General, noting the way the faint breeze swept the man's hair into his eyes and ruffled his uniform. Ed hesitated for a second longer than necessary, taking in the sight of a windswept Mustang, and then raised a hand in a lazy, casual salute. "See you tomorrow, General Bastard," he said, turning away and shoving his hands in his pockets.

"See you, Fullmetal," Mustang replied as he tucked the pen back into his pocket and left the square.

In spite of Ed's best attempts to treat his memories of the evening nonchalantly he knew he was grinning goofily as he headed home. He hadn't declared his desire for the older man or anything quite so momentous, but they had successfully managed a conversation that most folk would call civil.

It was a start.

Ed would have to remember to thank Al for his advice when he got home. Sometimes he wondered when his little brother had gotten so smart.

* * *

><p>It was time. He was sure that, this time, he was correct. His theory was sound, his arrays were flawless. All he needed now was the link. He'd done the research. Amestrians, Cretans, Aerugans, Drachmans, and Xingians… All had originally been dark eyed people with dark hair and pale skin. They had a common ancestor, it seemed.<p>

Only Xerxians were different. No one was really sure why, but the ancient people were like the embodiment of the sun – golden hair, bright eyes, tan skin. It was a Xerxian he needed and he'd started to think that the task was impossible. After all, the legendary Xerxes had vanished in a single day, her people completely obliterated. How could there be any descendants if the people were gone?

But there _were_ some descendants. Their blood was impure, of course, but it was the only explanation as to how there were any blondes at all in Amestris. It was vitally important to his mission that they have Xerxian blood.

The problem, however, was that the blood was too watered down. The children he'd taken had perhaps a drop of Xerxian blood, no more – and it was not enough to fuel the array. He'd tried and tried for years, taking a little boy here, a young girl there, experimenting, hoping, wanting – _failing_. He'd refined the array, researched more, and only in the past few months had he been so _close_, and yet still it did not work.

Why? What was he doing wrong? It was his life's work. He could not, _would not_, accept that it was impossible. He would _never_ accept that. He'd keep trying until he died if he had to. The reward would be worth his time searching, if he could just get the damn array to work!

The sound of a pencil snapping in half caught his attention for a bare moment. He'd gripped in too hard, lost in his sour thoughts. Muttering, he tossed it aside and grabbed a new one from the tin on his desk. He began to draw again, losing himself in his thoughts once more.

It had taken years for him to realize that the array _was_ working – it simply was too powerful for these children, with their filthy blood. Almost there, but so far away from his goal; it was so hard to keep hoping when he kept failing.

And then… _And then!_ The rumors. A whisper here, a quiet statement there – that in the East there was a man with blonde hair and eyes of the purest gold. His heart had leapt. Could it be…? Was this the proof he needed of his prize's existence? Here was a man who looked pure Xerxian, yet his hair was still flaxen, his skin still smooth, his mind still sharp. Could it _be_?

It _had_ to be. And so he had watched the man, for the man was in Central, and though _he_ gave no outward sign of having sampled the delights of _it_, _he_ was extraordinarily powerful. Transmutations with no circle, transmutations that defied logic with their brilliance. Here, at last, was proof that _it_ existed. He began to plan anew, trying to decide how best to take the man. There was no question of simply asking _him_ – no, no one would want to share _it_. All that knowledge, all that power, for eternity?

He had been almost ready. The arrays were ready, the timing, all planned down to the minutiae, and then… _Then_… The man had_ vanished_. Gone, without even a trace. He could have screamed his frustration when everything fell apart at the last moment. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to go on, knowing that he'd tasted victory, only to have it snatched away from him? _How could this have happened?_ He would just have to keep trying. The children – surely there must be one Amestrian child who had the blood? Perhaps if he used more than one?

It never occurred to him that _he_ had procreated. He didn't even know that those children existed until word of the youngest State Alchemist in history filtered down to the depths of the underworld. Suddenly there was light in his world again, for the stories of the _Hero of the People_ were of a child – only twelve – with hair the color of the sun and eyes of a beautiful, terrifying molten gold.

He knew he'd found the _one_. It would take time. Patience. _Planning_. This time he would not miss his chance.

It took _years_. The boy was always off somewhere, always moving around, always busy. It was too dangerous to try to plan when the boy was so unpredictable. He would have only one chance. If the boy was alerted to his presence it could be a disaster. His age was not as important, because he had the _blood_. It would work. It would absolutely work. It _had_ to work.

It was time. He was ready to make his move. Today was the day.

He slipped out of his home, dressed casually in dark slacks and a white button-up shirt. He tucked his hands in his pockets and strolled casually down the sidewalk, whistling a jaunty tune. It was such a good day. The rain from the day before had washed the city clean and, though the autumn breeze was chilly, the day was warming in summer's last defiance.

He knew the boy's route by heart and memory. The blonde had grown comfortable ever since his brother had shed that monstrous armor. He was almost complacent now. His day was always the same. He watched from the street corner as the youth exited his apartment, calling out a lazy farewell to his brother as he moved leisurely down the street.

The young man was extraordinarily beautiful. Some might say his looks were wasted on a man, but those people were just shallow. Such splendor was not limited to women. The boy took after his father – lovely blond hair, slender but muscled, with eyes that could pierce a soul. His skin was a gorgeously honeyed. A pity it was always covered by that horrid black. White really would suit the boy so much better.

There was a glow to the Fullmetal Alchemist. He had seen it the first time he'd spied on the boy and he was utterly convinced that this was the one. No longer whistling, he set off once more, tailing the boy with the ease of a lifetime of practice. He didn't have to see him to know what path he would take. He always headed toward the army's headquarters, he always traced the same steps, and he always took that shortcut through two back alleys. No doubt Edward Elric expected today to be the same as any other day.

His stalker knew better. He hurried ahead of the boy, head down, knowing he looked like just another citizen who was late for work. He was in position when the boy turned down the second alley. The alchemist's hands were tucked in his pockets and he seemed lost in thought, but his body was tense with the awareness of one who was always expecting an attack.

_Luckily, _his soon-to-be assailant thought with a smile, _I have insurance._ He fingered the soaked cloth in his pocket idly. The drug had a distinctive smell, though – he didn't want to risk alerting the boy to his presence until it was too late.

Five steps, and then four. He tensed, clutching the cloth. Three steps… Two steps… Now! The blonde walked past him and he pounced. This, too, had been planned and practiced, down to the last moment. The Fullmetal Alchemist was known for his fighting prowess and alchemical skill. The trick was to pin his arms and slap the cloth over his nose and mouth before he could react. Just a single breath…

Even woozy with the drug the kid fought hard, scoring a punch to his jaw that would have broken bones if Fullmetal hadn't already been so dizzy. He knew the boy wouldn't be able to transmute: He was too disoriented. It was almost shamefully easy to tackle the kid and press the cloth once more over his face. Only when the blonde was truly dead to the world did he whistle the signal for his henchmen; they were dressed as professional movers. The kid was packed carefully into a wooden crate and hauled away.

He headed back to his house, knowing that his men were well-trained, a bounce in his step. Today was really such a good day! Soon he would have what he wanted – no, what he deserved! It would absolutely be his! And so would Edward Elric.

Yes indeed… It was time.

* * *

><p>Roy frowned groggily into his morning mug of coffee, glad that today was Hawkeye's turn to brew it. It was neither too strong nor too weak, made to his precise tastes, with the perfect consistency. As he did every time it was her turn to make the coffee he contemplated simply ordering Hawkeye to be solely in charge of the coffee mess but, once again, he dismissed the idea. It wasn't fair to do so, particularly when the First Lieutenant preferred tea. Perhaps if he scheduled some sort of training…?<p>

He sipped the dark liquid, closing his eyes briefly in bliss. Coffee was the lube oil of the military machine: It kept the army running smoothly – or as smooth as was possible in an organization as bureaucratic as the army. Paperwork was the gunk that built up in the army machine. It was an unfortunate by-product that could not be eliminated no matter how many hours Roy wasted trying to glare it into nonexistence.

This morning there was even more of it, compliments of the army taking over jurisdiction of the recent string of murders. With a sigh Roy scooped a pen from the cup on his desk. He paused, glancing at it, before turning his attention to the clock on the mantel. It was half past nine o'clock. Edward was supposed to come see him this morning to brief him on his research findings.

_And_, Roy thought with a faint smirk,_ to retrieve his pen_. Well, no matter. Ed was always late. Sometimes he didn't show up until almost lunch time. He got to work, reading reports and scrawling his signature on them. Still, given the recent events, Roy couldn't shake the sense of foreboding that crawled over him. He glanced at the clock again. Almost ten… Now that he thought about it, Edward usually called if he was going to be ridiculously late like this – his official report time was 0830. Roy got to his feet and opened his door.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye," he called. The blonde woman looked up from the paperwork she was delegating, a question in her wine-colored eyes. "Has Fullmetal called in this morning?" He doubted it; Hawkeye was always organized with letting him know these things. He expected the shake of her head. The dark feelings inside him nearly tripled. He picked up the phone and dialed, tapping his index finger impatiently on Hawkeye's desk impatiently.

"_Elric residence, this is Alphonse." _The younger Elric sounded harried and Roy realized that Al was probably just headed out to his first class.

"I'm sorry to call unannounced, Alphonse."

"_Oh, General Mustang, sir!" _The note of impatience left the boy's voice. _"Is everything all right?"_ Now he sounded a little worried and Roy winced in guilt.

"I was hoping you could tell me. Is Fullmetal there?" Al replied in the negative, and shit, now he was _definitely_ worried. "He left at his usual time? I see… No, Alphonse, that's all right. Go ahead and go to class. I'm sure he just decided to go to the library first."

"_He said last night that he was supposed to report in today, though." _Al's voice was hesitant, as though he knew something but didn't want to tell the older man. _"He seemed to be looking forward to sharing what he'd found."_

Roy's fingers tightened on the phone. "Well, we know how absentminded your brother can be," he said finally, soothingly. "I'll have my men check the library. I'm sure he's just fine. Yes… Yes, Alphonse, I will call you when we find him. As a matter of fact, I'll make sure he's the one you speak to. Of course. All right. Be careful on your way to school, just in case."

When he hung up the phone and turned to his team he found all of them had been listening, even Hawkeye. At the expression on their superior's face they stopped even the pretense of working. "Havoc, call the First Branch library and see if Fullmetal has been in this morning," Roy ordered. The man in question jumped to his feet.

"Yes sir!" he barked, grabbing the phone on the table he shared with Fuery, Breda, and Falman.

As he dialed, Roy turned to Fuery. "Go to the front desk and ask Private Leclaire if she's seen him this morning." The small man hurried out of the room. "Falman, go to Hughes. Tell him that Fullmetal might be missing. He usually has people watching the alchemists." The Warrant Officer got smoothly to his feet, saluted, executed a pristine about-face, and was gone.

Breda got to his feet. "Major Armstrong, right sir? For Al, and to see where Ross and Brosh are?" Roy nodded, unsurprised that Breda had known what to do. The man was an excellent strategist.

Hawkeye looked at Roy. "Respectfully, sir, might you be overreacting a bit? This isn't the first time that Edward isn't on time." Even as she said it, though, her eyes said that she was worried, too. Roy knew this was her way of gently fishing for information.

"Call it a feeling, Lieutenant. If there's one thing Ishval taught me it was to trust my instincts and right now they're screaming that something's wrong." He rubbed fingers that itched with the urge to snap idly, listening to the soothing rasp of the rough cloth. "I had a talk with Fullmetal yesterday," he admitted abruptly. He had been acting on Riza's advice to begin with. "We parted amiably. You know he's about as opaque as glass when it comes to his thoughts. There was nothing in his demeanor to suggest he would skip reporting it."

Hawkeye brushed a hand over her holstered gun. Like the General's gloves gave him a sense of security, her sidearm reminded her that she was not helpless no matter the situation. "I'd hoped your reasoning wouldn't be good," she said dryly. "It isn't like Edward to go so far as to not even call in."

"He hasn't been to the library this morning, General," Havoc said as he replaced the phone in the cradle. "Ms. Carson was surprised. Apparently he left all his books out from yesterday. She said he usually only does that when he intends to be back in a few hours."

Except that Roy had convinced Ed to go home after dinner. Usually that meant that Ed would have been back in the library as soon as it opened to resume his work. It would have been hard to miss him. Very few people, even State Alchemists, had the kind of drive that involved getting up that early.

They fell silent, Hawkeye paging absently through her paperwork. Roy leaned against the window sill, arms crossed as he stared at the parade ground below, hoping to catch a glimpse of that trademark red coat.

Fuery returned first, panting, and reported that Leclaire had not seen Edward and that she'd been on duty since 0530.

Falman returned at a quick march that was almost, but not quite, a run. "Colonel Hughes sent out some of his people, sir. They shall report back by noon with anything that they find." Roy knew what sort of 'people' Hughes would have deployed. If anyone could find Fullmetal, it would be them.

"Major Armstrong is off to the university to keep an eye on Al," Breda said as he pushed open the door, red-cheeked from his hurried pace. "Neither Ross nor Brosh have been in this morning. The Major says that they were supposed to be watching Edward, so he hasn't heard from them today." The Second Lieutenant yanked a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his sweaty forehead. "He sent Captain Pollock to check their homes. Pollock has orders to contact you as soon as he knows something, sir."

They all waited, watching Roy as he stared into the distance. Very few people saw this coldly calculating expression on the usually charming General's face. It was one of the reasons so many people had underestimated him for so long, and why he was a Brigadier General despite a large percentage of the brass distrusting him.

Finally he sighed. "For now, everyone get back to work. Until Pollock and Hughes' men report back in, there isn't anything else we can do. I can't organize an official search until Fullmetal's been missing for at least twenty-four hours. For now, this is all we can do." No one missed the spark of anger in the General's eyes. "We will find him, though. Fullmetal is too valuable an asset to the military for them to turn a blind eye."

Reluctantly his team did as he ordered and Roy retreated to his office. By now his coffee was cold but he drank it anyway just to have something to do with his hands. The urge to click his fingers and torch any who dared to touch one of his people was almost overwhelming. He drained the mug and glanced at the barren fireplace.

Grateful for an excuse to bleed off some of his excess anger, he snapped, directing the flame to the fresh logs stacked in the fireplace. They roared into burning, popping existence, hungrily attacking the wood. He'd used a bit too much – almost a quarter of the logs were gone already.

Luckily, as the Flame Alchemist, his affinity for fire was very well known. There was always fresh wood in the grate and extra logs stacked nearby for his use. He settled behind his desk and reached for his dropped pen, hesitated, and put it back in the cup with its brethren. Instead he withdrew the pen in his breast pocket, twirling it idly in his fingers before glancing down at his reports. He got to work, signing away absently.

By lunchtime the men had reported it. Master Sergeant Pugh and Warrant Officer Lambert stood nervously at attention in front of the Brigadier General, knowing that they were about to deliver bad news and sweating over it. The rumors said that Mustang was far kinder than most of the other generals but rumor wasn't always fact.

"Brigadier General, sir," began Pugh, fists clenched tight, "under the orders of Colonel Hughes, we were sent to determine the whereabouts of First Lieutenant Maria Ross and Sergeant Denny Brosh." Both men flinched when Roy spoke.

"At ease, you two. I take it from your demeanor that you couldn't find them?"

Lambert shook his head. "Actually, sir, we found them." He handed the General a folder and stepped back, tensing to attention despite having permission to relax. "I found Ross in her kitchen, unconscious." His lips thinned in revulsion. "She suffered a severe concussion from being smashed in the head."

Roy skimmed the contents of the folder, searching for and finding the medical report. Pugh and Lambert remained quiet as he read through the short paragraphs. Ross was still unconscious and Brosh had awoken less than an hour ago, according to the file. Brosh had been found in the barracks in much the same condition that Ross had been in, though whatever he'd been hit with had sliced open his head deep enough to require stitches.

"We got them to the infirmary as quickly as we could, sir. Unfortunately, Brosh is still groggy. He says that whoever got him snuck up on him – he didn't get a look at his assailant. From the location of the trauma on Ross' head, she was likely also snuck up on." Pugh and Lambert exchanged glances as they both fell silent once more.

"You did your part, men," Roy said finally, closing the folder and looking up at the soldiers. They both blanched at the expression in his eyes. Roy held out the file. "Return this to Colonel Hughes and say nothing to anyone else except him. Dismissed!" Pugh took the folder, saluted along with Lambert, and they beat a hasty retreat. Hawkeye poked her head in a moment later.

"I took the liberty of visiting some of the local businesses along Edward's usual route to work. Everyone I asked says they saw him headed in this direction this morning, but the men who were on guard duty at the gate never saw him." She strode briskly across the room, a rolled up map in her grip. "If I may, sir?" she asked, gesturing to the coffee table.

Roy nodded and got to his feet as his Lieutenant opened the map on the table. A path had been drawn on the laminated map in bright red. Roy traced alongside it as Hawkeye continued.

"Based on what I heard, these shopkeepers saw him," she stated, pointing to each one in question, "but these did not. We can assume, if he was kidnapped, that he was taken somewhere in this vicinity." She drew a blue circle to encompass the last point Ed had been seen.

"Fullmetal would have fought," Roy mused, staring at the map as though it held the answers he sought. "In a crowded area someone would have noticed something going on, even if he was drugged." He pointed to a chain of alleys that bypassed a large chunk of Central's main street. "It's likely that he took these as a shortcut and was taken there."

Hawkeye frowned. "That suggests that this was premeditated… The kidnapper would have needed to stalk Edward for some time and learned his habits before laying a trap for him." She scowled down at the map, glancing at Roy when the General swore softly. His fingers, braced on his biceps, were strained with the urge to click.

"I'm sure I've told him before, _State Alchemists are not popular._ Don't make habits. Don't get complacent. Son of a…" He pinched the bridge of his nose irately and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his anger. "I swear to God everything I say to that kid goes over his head. Lieutenant," he began, looking at the blonde woman. She smiled faintly at him and handed him a single packet of paperwork before he could finish his statement.

"I've already filled out the report for Edward's kidnapping," she explained. "It just needs your signature, sir, and we can rout it as soon as the normal work day starts tomorrow." She watched him scrawl his signature over the report, noting the tense line of his jaw and the tight grip he had on the pen. She was his right-hand woman and had been for a very long time – she knew the faint signs of stress her was exhibiting. It worried her but there was little she could do about it right now.

The only one who could soothe those signs away now was Edward.

At six o'clock in the evening there were still no leads to Edward's disappearance. Al had called ten times already and the rest of his team had gone home, knowing there was nothing else that could be done until the morning. Only Roy remained in his office, arms folded over his chest and glaring into the flames. Over and over again he thought of the killer's MO. He thought of how only the last victim had been marked by an array, and how Fullmetal had struggled to decipher it.

Each new piece to the puzzle clicked into place and Roy could have smacked himself for not seeing it sooner. The killer had been after Edward from the very beginning. The military had used decoys more than once – what better way to catch a killer than putting a soldier in harm's way? The psychopath had probably used blondes for that very reason and then slapped some bogus array on the last one for the sole purpose of prodding the military into putting Fullmetal on the case.

And Roy had played right into his hands, goddammit. Why hadn't he seen it before? He'd put Brosh and Ross on bodyguard detail, but no one had expected for the criminal to be a stalker. The chances were high that he'd seen the two soldiers following Ed and had dispatched them at his leisure – the better to grab the blonde without a fight. Roy was certain that drugs had been involved for Fullmetal to be taken down so easily.

He scowled, staring unseeingly out the window to the darkened sky. Fullmetal was one of the army's greatest assets – if not their _greatest_ asset. He was intelligent, he was good at what he did, and most of all the people trusted him. Was that why he'd been targeted? But if that was the case, wouldn't there have been some sort of ransom demand by now? By his estimate Fullmetal had been missing for almost twelve hours by now.

He swore quietly, pulling Fullmetal's pen out of his pocket and staring at it. His fingers tightened around it. He'd promised to give it back, and he never broke his promises. Fullmetal was a precious subordinate to him, as important as Hawkeye, Havoc, Breda, Fuery, or Falman. He wasn't going to let the younger alchemist down. He couldn't.

_If you're in trouble, Fullmetal, we'll find you. This I swear to you._

* * *

><p><em>Word Count: 7,193<em>

_A/N: Yeah, so, the "front desk" for a sailor is actually called a "Quarterdeck". We call the mess hall or canteen a "galley." Fun facts of the day?_

_You know what else is strange about Fullmetal Alchemist? The ranking system. It starts out with 'Private', which in an enlisted rate, and then climbs up to the General ranks, which are officer ranks. It doesn't work like that! It's so weird!_

_I've got so many stories in my head right now. There's this one, there's a one shot PWP and its sequel in my head, there's a FMA/HP crossover I'm thinking of, there's one with a school setting, and of course there's all my old stuff that I really don't want to leave abandoned. I'm still toying with rewriting my female!Ed trilogy._

_I think I bit off more than I could chew with Magical Alliance, no joke. There're simply so many characters to keep up with. _

_On another note, I suppose the reason I'm so lax with writing is that I'm insecure. I think that's normal. I guess it's because I read so many other stories that are so amazing, with such beautiful prose, and I just can't match it. Still, I really love to write, and I really love sitting down with pen and paper and planning out a story, fleshing out a world, and getting it all just right. Please keep supporting me! Your kind words really help._


	3. In Which Some Questions are Answered

**Title: **_Rain  
><em>**Author: **_AkizukiSakura  
><em>**Pairing(s):**_ Roy/Ed  
><em>**Spoilers/Warnings: **_As far as I know, the spoilers are minimal. This diverges from both the manga and the anime, and I wouldn't be surprised if I get some facts wrong anyway (like the ages they were when each major even occurred). Also, this is **YAOI**. Don't like it, don't read it. Period._  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>_I do not own _Fullmetal Alchemist._ I make no monetary profit from the writing and posting of this, or any, fanfiction.  
><em>**Notes: **_While I have the facts straight, I don't actually have the plot pinned down to a linear format yet. So for now, I'm letting the characters write the story. It should prove interesting, at least._

_I had meant to open this chapter with Ed, but then Al popped up because he wanted his share of the spotlight, too. _

_Many, many thanks to _proser132 _for taking the time to edit this for content and flow. Very talented writer and beta._

**Chapter Three:**_In Which Some Questions are Answered_

Alphonse Elric was the very definition of _not happy_, so much so that the dictionary entry would probably have his picture situated right next to it. It was rare that Al was not his usual cheerful self, but it did happen, and he thought his reasons for being decidedly bitter were very good ones, thank you very much.

Not _only_ was his older brother missing – which in itself was a Very Bad Thing – but General Mustang wasn't going to let the younger Elric assist with the search. The General's decision annoyed him. Al knew his brother's habits better than anyone else. How was it _not_ beneficial to allow him to help?

He scowled down at his biology homework without really seeing it, tapping his pencil irately on the kitchen table. Books, papers, and a few dishes littered the surface of the battered wood – he and his brother had tried to be thrifty with their money, so most of their furnishings were second-hand. Edward had been missing for a day and a half, now, and Al was having a difficult time concentrating on schoolwork when his only family had been kidnapped. He wanted to be out searching for Ed, not stuck at home like a good little boy! _Why_ did Mustang have to make sense?

All right, so _maybe_ the General had a point in that, yes, Al definitely fit the description of the victims. His hair was more of a sandy blonde than a true blonde and he was, perhaps, a little too old; but, then again, Ed was sixteen and _he _had been taken so perhaps the whole age thing was moot anyway. The stray idea that Ed was short enough to be a twelve-year-old made Al smile briefly as he thought of the rage Ed would be in if he ever voiced such musings aloud – at the very least Ed would screech one of his typical rants at the top of his lungs. The smile fell into a dark scowl as his thoughts turned inevitably back to the General's refusal to let him search.

Sure, Al knew well that the best way to ensure the cooperation of his hot-headed older brother was to threaten Al. Such a tactic had been used before – several times, in fact. If Al used all ten toes, both thumbs, and all eight fingers he'd _still_ not have enough appendages to use to recount the occasions when Ed had been forced to submit on Al's behalf. Some of those times were used by the General, but they still counted. At least the General usually had their best interests at heart.

He frowned as he scribbled something about genetic breeding down on his homework, his handwriting subpar. His professor would probably be surprised by the apparent lack of effort – compared to Al's usual enthusiasm, anyway – that went into this paper. Usually Al took his schooling very seriously. Ed had provided for them both for so long that Al wanted to be able to bring income in, too. Ed deserved a break. Maybe if Al earned money, too, Ed might consider accepting a promotion. Majors received bonus money for being field officers.

Al wrinkled his nose. As if Ed would ever consent to becoming a paper-pusher. He stuck his pencil in his mouth and stared idly at the ceiling, wishing that they could call attention to his older brother's disappearance and knowing that it was a bad idea. The search for Edward was not public knowledge yet because the media definitely could not be trusted to be discreet. The last thing anyone wanted to do was spook the perpetrator into being more careful, or potentially deciding keeping Edward alive was not worth the risk of being caught. Al would very much like his brother to be _alive_ when next he saw him. The thought that anyone would dare to harm his brother brought Al out of his chair. He threw his pencil down and began to pace, fingers curled tightly into fists.

Of course Al understood that his brother wouldn't want him to put himself at risk. Ed would say, rightly, that Al should let Major Armstrong escort him to class and that Al should concentrate on his studies right now because, really, what could Al do that the General and everyone else weren't already doing? But Al didn't want logic right now. He wanted to run through Central, transmuting buildings into rubble until he found his brother, and damn it Ed better be safe when Al found him! He snagged a mug of cold tea from the counter and stared at the leaves gathered at the bottom of the cracked porcelain, knowing intellectually that Ed would not want his little brother to put himself in danger.

Al didn't care. He was _still_ unhappy about the whole thing, and an unhappy Elric was never a Good Thing. Al wasn't military. He wasn't obligated to follow the orders, well-meaning or otherwise, of General Mustang. He could go and look for his brother if he darn well wanted to, and nothing anyone else could say would affect that. Everyone knew his brother was an excellent martial artist – Teacher had taught him well – and that Ed was an extraordinarily amazing alchemist.

They seemed to forget that Al, too, had seen the Gate – that Al had _also_ trained with Teacher, thank you very much, and that Al could still mop the floor with Ed when it came to their sparring. Yes, Ed was getting better, as he tended to fight more, since he still went on missions and Al was a student now, but Ed still sparred with him and Al was a quick study, just like his brother. It made up for the fact that Ed was a genius prodigy while Al was not stupid, not by any means, but he was perhaps not _as_ much a genius. Ed just made these _leaps of logic_ that no one else could follow, and yet still _worked_. His brain just seemed to be wired a bit differently. Perhaps that was why Al was so much better with people than Ed was.

Whatever. Al was giving the military three days to find his brother. If they couldn't, he'd explained quite seriously to the General, then Al was going to take matters into his own hands and deal with the consequences after. Perhaps he wasn't an almost impenetrable suit of armor anymore but he could still best nine out of ten opponents with ease. Mustang could take his well-meaning orders and stick them on someone who cared to follow them, and that would be the end of that.

* * *

><p>Almost two full days had gone by and there was still no word of Fullmetal. Roy had a headache, partly induced from lack of sleep and partly from the grilling he'd received from Alphonse. How could the bronze-eyed boy possibly be more intimidating now than he had been as a suit of armor? Sure, he was taller than his brother, but he was shorter than Roy and Alphonse was just so polite and unassuming. It made <em>no sense<em> whatsoever that he was scarier as a human. Al's behavior only added to Roy's feelings, and the General was almost sick with worry as it was. Ed could take care of himself, true, but there were ways to restrain him. Simply take away his arm and his ability to transmute was severely handicapped.

Roy frowned into his glass of scotch, watching the firelight from his study's grate play over the slowly melting ice cubes in his drink. He wished he'd thought more before pouring the drink. The warm ochre hue of the liquid reminded him too much of Edward, who was all gilded skin and golden hair and beautiful, astonishing amber eyes.

Yes, perhaps the whiskey _had_ been a bad idea, particularly if it made his thoughts of his subordinate wax poetic like that. Roy could be romantic when he wanted to be – the women of Central could certainly attest to _that! – _but rarely did he do such things without meaning to. Roy knew his feelings for Fullmetal were extremely dangerous, not only to his career but also his sanity. Fullmetal was a male, over half his age, a fellow State Alchemist, and his _subordinate_. Moreover, the youth had been under his command since he was _twelve_. There were already rumors about how someone so young had earned the privilege to carry that silver pocket watch, and very few of them were actually about Ed's _alchemical_ talent. Ed didn't know about those particular rumors because Roy made every effort to ensure his young subordinate didn't hear them, but the barbs still stung.

He made a face and lifted the glass to his lips. He didn't know which was worse – that his colleagues would suggest anyone could take advantage of Ed in that manner (like Ed would even do something like that to begin with. The brat was way too headstrong to do anything so degrading, even for the sake of his brother) or that many of those who muttered about it did so with something very much like jealousy in their eyes. It wasn't necessarily that every man in the military was gay, either, but for some reason something about Fullmetal drew others like honey drew bees. Ed had been a truly lovely child. Age had only sharpened that beauty and now Fullmetal was _stunningly _attractive. Roy doubted he even _knew_ how appealing he was.

Certainly Fullmetal seemed oblivious to the trouble Roy had to go to just to keep him safe. Sixteen was a tender age no matter _how_ much Ed grumbled that he wasn't a kid, and Roy wanted nothing more than to protect him for just a little longer. Not everyone, however, shared that sentiment. There were plenty of others who would love to have Fullmetal under their command, not only for the boost to their career but also just for the pleasure of looking at him. They didn't even have to want him sexually. Edward exuded confidence and poise with every move he made, and his intelligence was truly a wonder to be privy to. Roy had lost count of the times he'd come across Edward in the library, only to be drawn helplessly to the aura the blonde exuded while studying. It was almost as though anyone around Ed could become more intelligent and attractive just by being in his vicinity.

There were a number of people who wouldn't hesitate to take Fullmetal away, and there were others who would let jealousy or greed get in the way of Edward's safety. Ed was a volatile, strong, reckless young man, but he was still a young man barely out of childhood. There were things that Fullmetal should not have to deal with, and Roy made a conscious effort to keep the young prodigy away from some of the darkest pits humanity had managed to dig. Roy had deliberately not mentioned Fullmetal's disappearance at the meeting earlier today, and had not had plans to say anything at all, except that Fuhrer Grumman had brought it up. Roy's lips twisted as memory interrupted his almost idle musings.

_"Mustang!" _

_Roy turned, knowing already who had called his name in such an infuriated tone. He affected an expression of surprise anyway, as though he had truly been unaware that Major General Hakuro had been dogging his footsteps for the better part of ten minutes. Hawkeye had been good about turning away the busybodies from the office after the meeting, but now that Roy was taking a walk to grab some lunch he had to fend for himself. He stopped as Hakuro approached, saluting smartly. "General Hakuro," he acknowledged politely, albeit with a small frown. "To what–"_

_Hakuro scowled and cut him off. "What are you playing at, Mustang?" he demanded, yanking out a handkerchief and blotting the sweat from his brow. August or not, cooling temperatures or not, Hakuro was not in the best shape of his life and Roy had a long stride – particularly when he was trying to avoid nosey, irritating generals. Hakuro didn't even let Roy reply, bulldozing along with no trace of aplomb. "You've known that boy was missing since yesterday and you didn't even bother to mention it until this morning at the meeting? And you only said anything when the Fuhrer brought it up! What the hell are you playing at?"_

_"As you know, sir, regulation dictates that an officer must be missing for at least twenty-four hours before–"_

_The Major General interjected again. "Don't give me that bullshit, _Brigadier General_!" The way Hakuro emphasized Roy's title suggested the man was about to try and pull rank. Not even a moment later he did so and Roy had to struggle to keep his façade blank as the older man plowed on. "I am your superior officer! I _demand_ to know why you waited! You know full well how valuable that boy is."_

_Roy raised a single eyebrow at Hakuro, falling easily into his role as an earnest, up-and-coming officer. "I was…unaware that you cared so much for my subordinate," he said delicately and watched with interest as Hakuro's complexion went from red to dead white in under five seconds. "I understand fully that Fullmetal is an asset to the Amestrian Army. I might go so far as to classify him a _vital_ asset. But procedure is still procedure, Major General. Surely you aren't expecting me to flout policy?" Roy kept his tone bland and smooth, but he could almost _see_ the cogs turning in the older man's head._

_"You're hiding something from me. From all of us, damn it, and I order you to tell me what it is right now!" Hakuro finally blustered, reddening again. _

_Roy sighed very faintly, resisting the powerful urge to roll his eyes. Honestly, did the man really think he'd divulge anything he was hiding just because he was ordered to? "Sir," he began, and stopped artfully. It was best to appease the general, even if the information wasn't strictly accurate. Roy did _not_ want someone as tactless as Hakuro trying to 'help' with the investigation into Fullmetal's disappearance. He began again after a measured pause. "Major General Hakuro, it would be in my best interest for Fullmetal to be found swiftly," he stated slowly and shifted just a little so that sunlight winked off the stars on his shoulders. "There is nothing to gain from keeping my superiors in the dark about any of my subordinates' disappearing, least of all him." Roy waited, keeping his expression calm. He'd been doing this since he became a Lieutenant Colonel._

_Hakuro took the bait. He sneered, having glanced at Roy's shoulders, and crossed his arms. "I should have known. Of course you _care_ about the boy. He's your ticket to promotion, after all." The Major General was needling him on purpose now._

_Despite the vicious barb in the Major General's voice, Roy merely shrugged blandly, offering his most sincere expression for the man's perusal. "We use the tools we are given," he stated shortly, knowing when Hakuro sniffed that he'd successfully out-maneuvered the man – not that it had been much of a challenge. The rumors of a relationship that was more than professional between Flame and Fullmetal had picked up as Ed aged. More and more military brass were poking their noses into Roy's business and while he wasn't worried – there was nothing going on between him and Edward, after all – it was still annoying to have to take the time to derail their suspicions._

_For one thing, Roy was still hungry, and Hakuro was taking up a long stretch of his precious lunch break with his petty words and pathetic attempts to dig at Roy. Hawkeye would kill him if he came back late. Luckily the older General finally grumbled something obscene under his breath and stomped away, allowing Roy to continue through the square. He hesitated when his gaze fell on the Xingian vendor he and Ed had eaten from on their not-date before he moved on. The memory of that evening was a pleasant one; he didn't want to taint it with the what-ifs of Fullmetal's situation. _

_And it hurt just a little bit to see that vendor and realize he and Fullmetal could only ever be comrades, if even_ that._ Even if he was willing to risk everything – and he thought he just might be – the idea that Fullmetal would return his advances favorably was laughable._

Roy yanked his thoughts back to the present, drained the scotch, and set the glass down, ice clinking loudly in the otherwise quiet room. In the time he'd been lost in thought the fire had dulled down to embers and the lingering nighttime chill was beginning to invade the room once more. Roy got up with a small groan and moved over to the fire, tossing another couple of logs on it. Using the array he'd carved into the lintel long ago, he gently coaxed the flames up once more.

The grandfather clock, an antique that had been passed down from his great-grandfather, chimed the hour. Eleven chimes… When had it gotten so late? Roy traced his fingers over the well-worn shelves and much-loved books in his study as he padded across the plush carpet to drop into his armchair, tucking his fingers under his chin and staring moodily at the coffee table. A copy of the case file Fullmetal had been working on sat innocently on the coffee table, taunting him. It took more willpower than Roy would have liked to admit to keep from torching the damn thing. The fact that his gloves were across the room, resting innocently on his desk, helped.

He snorted at his own foolishness. As if destroying a copy of the file would bring Fullmetal back! Jean must be rubbing off on him if he truly considered that to be an alternative.

It was late already. There wasn't anything more he could do tonight. Perhaps it was time to go to bed… Roy sighed as he got to his feet, steady despite the amount of alcohol he had imbued. Was it even worth trying to sleep? Every time he closed his eyes images of worst case scenarios ran through his head. Fullmetal could be killed. He could end up like those children, all open-eyed and staring blankly, with an unknown cause of death. He could be found with a strange array carved onto his stomach, blood staining his caramelized skin…

The sound of the hall phone ringing tore through the ghastly images his mind had conjured up. For a moment Roy could only stare at the doorway to the hall in surprise. Who would be calling this late? Alphonse, perhaps? He padded across the room, snagging his gloves and pulling them on as a precaution. It wouldn't be the first time a high-ranking officer had been lured to a specific area by a seemingly commonplace sound. His bare feet were silent as he slipped across the hall to the phone.

_"Brigadier General?" _asked the voice of Riza Hawkeye before he could even speak. His heart leapt, stuttered, and began to beat harder.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" he asked just as shortly, hand tightening on the phone. _Please_, he thought desperately. _Please don't be-_

_"We've received a tip, sir,"_ Hawkeye said without preamble. She was slightly breathless, as though she was moving, and from the thumping sounds in the background Roy could guess she was pulling on her uniform. Heavy military boots hitting the floor sounded a lot like that. _"Havoc has already been notified and is in the process of contacting the others. I will be at your house with a car in fifteen minutes," _she stated sharply, as crisp as if it was the middle of the day. The line went dead and Roy tossed the phone at its cradle. It missed, but he was already halfway up the stairs to dress.

He had just finished tugging on his boots when headlights flashed in the window. Hawkeye would never be presumptuous enough to honk the horn, particularly at this hour, but it didn't matter to Roy. He barely stopped long enough to fix the phone and lock the door before he was all but flying down the pathway and slipping into the car. "Report," he barked as his Lieutenant threw the car into gear and eased up on the clutch. The situation called for haste, but slamming the clutch and gears around would only stall the car.

"One of Breda's lady friends heard what happened to Edward," Riza said without preamble. They both knew what sorts of 'lady friends' Breda had. If the information came from them, it was good. Hawkeye ignored the surrounding traffic signs and signals, running a red light without an ounce of hesitation. It didn't matter, anyway. The police wouldn't stop a military car no matter what traffic law was broken and, even if they tried, Hawkeye would simply ignore them. Ruffled feathers could be smoothed later – Edward was the important thing now. "She reported seeing flashes of light coming from her neighbor's house very early in the morning," the Lieutenant continued, looping widely around a slower vehicle. "The occupant on the deed is not a licensed alchemist, nor is he a State Alchemist. At the very least, a transmutation of such a large magnitude that it drew attention is illegal."

Fuhrer Grumman had passed a law that alchemy was not to be performed without a license. It wasn't a popular bill and Roy doubted it would last very long. The parliamentary court was already looking into getting rid of it. The thinking behind the Alchemist Registration Act was noble – to protect ordinary, non-alchemist citizens from large alchemical reactions that had not been sanctioned by the military. While it was meant to protect people, it still infringed upon their rights, and the Charter of Amestris strictly prohibited such a law. It had only passed to begin with because those generals in favor had outweighed those against.

Roy tugged on his gloves impatiently, giddy with the need to _do_ something besides sit and wait. "Do we have any other information on the owner?" he asked, though he doubted it.

"Very little, sir," Riza replied with a trace of bitterness in her otherwise level tone. "We have a name: Dmitri Ivanov – he's an Amestrian citizen of Drachman decent, but as far as we could find, his family's been in our country for several generations. A nondescript man with a normal life – he works as a bartender. Fuery checked his place of employment, The Gilded Lily. He didn't report for his shift last night."

"A regular _quiet one_," Roy remarked acidly, glaring out the window irritably. "It's always the quiet ones," he murmured, rubbing his fingers together and feeling the reassuring rasp of the ignition cloth. If this Dmitri Ivanov had hurt Fullmetal in any way he was going to wish he was dead when Roy found him.

* * *

><p>A <em>horribly<em> pounding head woke Edward from a strange dream of hot sand and bright sunlight. He was certain there had been more to it, but his thoughts swirled like water draining in the bath – touching multiple surfaces but eventually narrowing to a single thought: _What the fuck happened?_ The last he remembered he was on his way to work. He'd taken his usual shortcut, turned the corner… And then…

His eyes snapped open, then immediately shut once more in pain. Wherever he was it was bright enough to cause his eyes to water. Right, then. Open eyes later, _slowly_ next time. Instinct demanded that he push through blurry eyesight and come up fighting, but logic pushed those thoughts aside. More than once his recklessness had caused trouble, and while it was all well and good to put himself in danger, it was another matter entirely if his actions caused pain to someone else. He forced himself to relax, evening out his breathing and affecting the signs of sleep once more. Before he did anything, he realized, he should try to figure out what condition he was in.

He had the mother of all headaches, probably from whatever he'd been knocked out with. The pounding had settled to a dull throb now that he'd closed his eyes again, suggesting that any escape attempt would be a very bad idea. Too much movement would probably make him sick. Very slowly he slit his eyes open as, keeping his movements as small as possible to maintain his charade, he shifted just a little to ascertain his position. He was lying down, wherever he was, and the surface under him was extremely soft. It would have even been comfortable, if he hadn't been so concerned with what was going on. He was covered by something, too – a blanket, he realized hazily. He was in a bed with silk sheets, blessedly cool against his hot skin. He might be a little feverish, though he couldn't imagine why.

It was very strange that he woke in a bed. From what he could guess, he'd been kidnapped, but what kind of criminal kidnapped someone only to put them in a nice, soft bed? Weren't kidnappers usually less-than-charitable psychos or something? He opened his eyes a little more and waited impatiently for the room to come into focus.

Other than his head, he seemed to be fine. Nothing else hurt at all, though he felt a little weak. Maybe he really _was_ sick – that would be just his luck. He moved his left leg, noting that it responded as smoothly as ever, then his right. Both were fine. It was only when he shifted his arms that he realized something disheartening – his wrists were chained down. He could lift them a few inches from the bed before the slack ran out. There was no way for him to bring his palms together unless he intentionally dislocated his shoulder, and even then it was no guarantee. Plus, it would hurt like a bitch. That was definitely a 'last resort' kind of plan.

Whoever had him knew who he was, then. They even knew he needed to clap to perform alchemy. Obviously this person had watched him for some time, as most normal people simply knew he didn't need to draw a circle to transmute. So he had a stalker? That was definitely creepy, though Ed was used to all sorts of weird people by now. He tested the manacles again and realized something. Interestingly, the cuff on his left arm didn't seem to be chaffing his wrist. Considering he didn't even feel cool metal on his wrist, he surmised that it was padded. A bad thought occurred to him as he remembered the pictures of the slain children. Their restraints had been padded as well.

Forcibly he thrust the idea away. He needed to focus on trying to get out of here, not worry about who his kidnapper was. He blinked a few times and, though it was still a little blurry, finally managed to bring the ceiling into focus. Very, very slowly, wary of his aching head, he turned his gaze to his surroundings. He was, indeed, in a bed – a large one, as it happened, with white sheets and a white coverlet. Even the pillows were white. How odd.

The room had two windows, though both were covered by white shades. No light gilded the edges of the drapery – Ed guessed that it was dark outside. The walls of the room were pearly white, as was the carpet. Even the furniture – bed, chest of drawers, single chair, and nightstand – was a snowy ivory. It was more than a little freaky. He felt like those crazy people who were locked in padded white rooms so that they couldn't hurt themselves. Central's first and second branch prisons had rooms like that for the criminals who were deemed insane.

There was nothing at all in this room to indicate the time and a perusal of his hips with his shackled hands indicated that he wasn't wearing his usual garments, which meant he didn't have his pocket watch, and his internal clock was malfunctioning; probably from the drug. He could tell he was barefoot. The slight view of silver to his right indicated that his arms and shoulders were bare, but his stomach seemed clothed. A tank top, perhaps? It didn't feel like his usual shirt, though.

So an extravagant bed, new clothes, and a scarily white room. What the hell? Movement drew his gaze. There hadn't appeared to be a door in this room but there was one, though it lacked any distinguishing features from the wall. It didn't even seem to have a handle. A man stepped through the doorway and Ed caught a glimpse of a dark hallway and a large male – an underling, presumably – before the door shut again. The man glanced at him and blinked in apparent surprise. For all that Ed was certain this man was not here to set him free, his mind immediately began cataloguing the man's appearance. Taller than Mustang, wiry, with an angular face that could be classified as 'handsome'. A smile lit the man's pale face and light brown eyes.

"Oh… You're awake now." His voice was smooth and pleasant and bore no noticeable accent. He crossed the room, his footsteps silenced by the thick carpet, and set the tray down. Ed glanced at it and hid a scowl. A white bowl of something that actually smelled pretty good, a white mug of something that was presumably water from the lack of scent, and a syringe. The man fiddled with something at the end of the bed and suddenly the bed lurched, shifting noiselessly on well-oiled hinges until Ed was sitting. Ed had been in enough hospitals that the movement didn't surprise him unduly. The sudden movement of the bed did, however, make him close his eyes, fighting down nausea with difficulty. "Ah… I'm sorry, Edward… I forgot that you might feel ill… An unfortunate side effect of the drug…"

Ed forced his eyes open again, lips curling in a snarl. "Who the fuck are you?" he demanded, wincing at how raspy his voice came out – he was parched. He almost added _and how do you know my name?_ but he _was_ rather famous. It wasn't unthinkable that this man – whoever he was – knew him.

To his credit the brunette did not seem offended at all by Ed's language. He simply pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down, folding his hands in his lap. "You needn't curse at me," he said mildly. "All will be answered soon. I am Dmitri. Just a simple alchemist. _Such_ a simple alchemist… Not like you…"

If Ed had to put a name to the emotion shining in Dmitri's eyes he would have called it 'awe'. Awe and perhaps a hint of hunger. "You drugged me, kidnapped me, and have me chained to a goddamn bed," Ed retorted bitingly, his tone incredulous. "Of course I'm going to fucking curse at you. What the hell do you want?" It unnerved Ed when the man – Dmitri – merely smiled indulgently at him.

"My, my… I simply came in to see how you were doing. I was worried you might have inhaled too much of the drug, and I require you awake for my plans. Are you hungry?" he asked, seemingly on a tangent, waving a slender hand gracefully at the tray. "It is quite safe to eat."

Ed started to say something scathing but an insistent rumble from his stomach cut off his words. He tried to remember the last time he'd eaten and realized grumpily that it had been when Mustang had treated him to dinner. How long ago had that been? He had no idea how long he'd been out for, but from the lack of sunlight against the shades it had been at least twelve hours.

Dmitri picked up the bowl. "I'm afraid I can't unchain you," he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "I know you would try to leave, and I can't have that." He offered a spoonful of something that looked and smelled like soup to Ed, who turned his head petulantly away. He _was_ hungry, but no way was he taking food from a strange man – especially when said strange man had already drugged him once. The strange man in question sighed. "It really would be best for you to eat… You have gone almost two days without nourishment or water."

"_Fuck y–_" Ed began to snarl, only to find a spoonful of soup shoved into his mouth. Warmth spread down his throat, soothing it and awakening the hunger biting ravenously at him. It took a lot of energy to move with the automail, which was one of the reasons he ate so much. To have gone so long without eating or drinking, particularly after having been drugged unconscious… No wonder he was feverish. The mouthful didn't seem to make him sick and, while he was not about to trust this man, he knew if he wanted to escape he couldn't be weak with hunger and thirst. Glaring at Dmitri balefully, he let the man feed him the bowl of soup and the cup of water.

Dmitri set aside the mug and carefully, as though he was taking care of something precious, wiped Ed's lips with a pristine white napkin, calmly ignoring Ed's dark, homicidal glower. _No one_ was allowed to treat him like a kid, damn it! Dmitri folded the napkin primly and set it aside. "You see? Everything is fine now, and our conversation proceeds ever so much more smoothly when you cooperate."

Ed counted to ten in his head to keep from exploding. For whatever reason this man didn't seem to want to kill him, which was a first. If he wanted answers, he was going to have to try and remain calm. Ed's eyebrow twitched with the effort. He didn't _do_ calm. He had normal and he had enraged. There wasn't really a _calm _side of him, unless he was drugged. "Everything's just dandy," he mumbled, trying and failing to squash the sarcasm before the statement left his mouth. "What do you want, anyway? Why am I here?"

"Have you ever heard of the Fountain of Youth, Edward?" Dmitri asked simply, settling back in his chair. His expression of polite inquiry didn't change at all when Ed gaped at him.

"What the hell does that have to do with anything? It's a fable. A myth. It doesn't exist," Ed iterated for the man's benefit, disbelief evident in his tone. Had the man kidnapped him for information? What could he possibly expect Ed to know?

Dmitri's expression shifted just the tiniest fraction, and now there was a hint of amusement lacing his tone as he said, softly, "Rather like the Philosopher's Stone is hearsay?" He examined his nails for a moment, humming, before continuing. "I don't think you understand just how much I've watched you, Edward. I know what you were looking for – why you joined the army to begin with. I know _why_ you were looking for the Stone. And I know you found it, even though you didn't use it." A pause. "Well, I can see why. So many sacrifices… Such an inefficient method…"

The blood drained from Ed's face. "What do you want?" he repeated finally, deceptively calm despite the fact that his heart felt like it was trying to hammer its way out of his chest. How could this man know about Al? And if _he_ knew, who else knew? Human transmutation was an offense that would put him in front of a firing squad in the very best scenario. At the worst, he would disappear into the military's clutches as a test subject along with Al, probably never to see the light of day again.

"I happen to know that the Fountain exists," Dmitri said simply, as though he hadn't just turned Ed's world sideways. "The Xerxians wrote of it, though trying to find a scroll that is still intact is nearly impossible." He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and opened it. "This is a transcription I made from just such a scroll. The source material is falling apart, so I prefer to not unroll it too often. It says, _'And of Our Decree, a library to house this Knowledge, such that We can seek it whenever We so choose. It shall not be for the Common, for the Knowledge is great indeed, and for Us only, as the Water's power is immense'_."

Dmitri smiled gently at Ed, who was staring at him as if he'd grown a second head. "This is part of the Scripture of one of the last kings of Xerxes," he explained breezily. "I have read a number of myths, some gathered from Drachma, some from Aerugo, even some from Xing and the lands beyond. The library existed, though it doesn't anymore. It seems that a group of peasants burned it down. But in that library is the key to the Fountain's location, and I _will_ have it."

"That's all very fascinating," Ed drawled, venom dripping from his words, "but what does that have to do with me? And why go to all the trouble to be young forever? There are plenty of easier ways to do it." None of them were remotely pleasant, of course, but they were definitely easier than searching for a mythical library to find a key to a Fountain that had even less basis in fact. To his surprise Dmitri got to his feet, folding and tucking the paper away once more.

"The library is gone now. It once housed knowledge that is now, sadly, thought to be forever lost. But not for me. The Fountain grants more than simply eternal youth and, by extension, everlasting life. Ingesting the waters allows one to bypass the laws of Equivalent Exchange at a magnitude that even the fabled Philosopher's Stone cannot match. By drinking that water, reality becomes mine to control." His smile grew as he leaned down, reaching out to gently sift a hand through Ed's loose hair. "I was right," he murmured absently, completely off topic. "White really does suit you better, my golden one." He ignored Ed's thunderous expression at the endearment. "By using descendants of the inhabitants of Xerxes, I can fuel my array."

Ed was almost afraid to ask. "_What _array?" he ventured, gaze flicking around the room to see if he had missed anything.

Dmitri seemed amused by his sudden examination of the white room. "Oh, don't worry. I wouldn't put it _here_. This room was set up just for you to recover in." He brushed golden bangs from Ed's forehead, fingers trailing down to cup his chin. Dmitri's thumb stroked his cheek, his gaze almost reverent. "With a strong enough blood connection, my array will allow me to travel to the past. I will visit the library, find the key, and then I will find the Fountain."

"You're out of your fucking mind!" Ed exclaimed, struggling against his bonds. He'd dealt with crazy megalomaniacs with delusion of grandeur before but this guy really took the cake. "There's no way you could possibly have the kind of energy necessary to fuel that array! Even if you used me, you'd just end up stuck in the past, and what would be the point of that? No one knows exactly when or why Xerxes was destroyed." Well, Ed knew, courtesy of his father, but he wasn't about to say as much to this bastard. "For all you know, you'll die, too."

Dmitri pulled something from his pocket and held it up for Ed to see. "Oh, but I think this Philosopher's Stone will have plenty of energy. It was very old when I found it, but still quite powerful, and I have offered several lives to it recently. I did not mean to, of course. I had hoped the blood would be enough, but when it wasn't, I decided not to waste the lives of the children."

Ed blanched. "The blonde children," he whispered, feeling a little ill when Dmitri simply shrugged, walking the Stone through his fingers as casually as if it was a coin.

"They did not have enough Xerxian blood. The array would have killed them anyway, so I gave their lives to my Stone instead. It has enough power to send both me and you to the past and bring us back. Your blood will be the bridge between the times."

"You don't even know if it's possible," Ed said finally, quietly. He stared at Dmitri, teeth gritted. This man was the reason those children were dead, all for a crackpot theory on time travel. "You don't think alchemists have tried to travel through time before? The conversion of matter and energy is phenomenal." _But they didn't have a Stone_, he realized.

"I know it will work." Dmitri didn't seem fazed at all by Ed's anger. "Those children, even with no more than a drop of the blood, were still able to call an image of Xerxes before the array went awry. But your blood is strong enough."

"What makes you think I have the blood? And, anyway, if blood's all you need, why am I still here?" Ed demanded. "You're taking an awful risk, keeping me alive. I know you're aware that people will be looking for me, and that there's no way I'm helping you." He might have said more except, all of a sudden, lips were covering his. He froze in utter shock. Only when a tongue slid between his lax lips did he jerk out of his paralysis, teeth coming together with an audible click as he missed.

Dmitri laughed. It should have been creepy, or crazy, or any number of things, but it was actually pleasant. If Ed didn't know better, and had just met the man on the street, he would have thought it an attractive laugh. The man himself was not ugly by any means. "I know you do because Van Hohenhiem is your father." Ed blanched but Dmitri continued as if he hadn't seen. "I could just take your blood," Dmitri acknowledged. "But your death would be a criminal waste of your beauty. No, my golden one, I have other plans for you." He picked up the syringe and a note of reluctance entered his tone. "Unfortunately, the time approaches. I have found that midnight is the best time for such things, and we really need to be going."

Ed shivered as Dmitri pulled the blankets gently away from his chest and found that he _was_ wearing a tank top like the one he usually wore, though this one was white and seemed to be made of silk. He tried to shy away from Dmitri. "Thought you needed me awake?" he snapped, pulling at the chains. The man pinned his flesh shoulder in place with one hand and Ed realized that, despite Dmitri's relatively slender build, the man was deceptively strong.

"This won't put you to sleep," he explained mildly, sliding the needle expertly into Ed's bicep.

Ed hissed. Why did it have to be a fucking needle? Ed _loathed_ needles. "Then–?"

"It's a diluted paralytic drug. It will leave you conscious, but will prevent movement," Dmitri explained patiently. "I am afraid you will likely feel a little disoriented for some time after," he added with an apologetic note to his voice as he pressed the plunger to release the drug. "I am sorry to have to do this, but I can't risk you ruining the transmutation to bind you to me."

Ed started in shock as Dmitri withdrew the needle. "I thought you needed me for the time travel!" he asked, alarmed. Even now he could feel the drug beginning to work. A mild numbness began to spread through him at a leisurely pace, sapping what strength he had recovered and making him woozy. His thoughts and vision began to get hazy.

"I already have the blood I need," his captor said benignly, lightly placing his fingers over the pulse on Ed's neck and glancing at his watch to count. "I took it while you were unconscious. _This_ array is something else. After all, I can't have my beautiful pet trying to escape me, can I? And I can't have you attacking me. This will ensure that you cannot do either."

Any protests that Ed might have vocalized became lost between his brain and his lips. He could only stare in blurry helplessness as Dmitri brushed his lips over Ed's brow, nose, and lips before he walked over the where the door was and rapped on it twice, paused, rapped twice more, and then slapped it with his open palm. It opened to admit a man who rivaled Armstrong in muscle mass.

"Don't worry, Edward… I will treat you with the all the reverence your beauty deserves," Dmitri murmured as he unlocked the chains and carefully scooped Ed up from the bed, cradling him bridal style without appearing encumbered by Ed's weight.

Ed tried to move his arms, or his legs, or even his fingers and failed miserably each time. He was completely at the mercy of Dmitri.

* * *

><p><em>Word Count: 8,000<em>

_A/N: Oh my. A pretty pickle Edward seems to have gotten into this time, yes? Hopefully Roy will get there in time. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter! It was a little difficult to write, for some reason, and my daughter kept crawling toward dangerous things so I had to stop her every five minutes or so until she went down for a nap._

_I have to admit to being a little bit sad. I _was_ very excited, because I thought I had been quite original with the (limited) plot of _Phone Sex_ but apparently there's a doujinshi that is very similar to it. I checked it out on YouTube on the advice of one of my readers and had to be a little bit disappointed, because it _is_ quite similar! At least it's in Japanese, though, so I have no idea what it was saying. If you check out _Phone Sex_ and like it, then look up _Glass Bean_ on YouTube. The artwork is quite pretty._

_Incidentally, _Phone Sex_, my FMA one-shot, has gotten some absolutely _amazing_ feedback; it's definitely the best-performing of my one-shots. If you've read it and reviewed, that you very much! If you haven't reviewed, I can only hope you liked it. It seems like that one-shot will end up in a series of small fics._

_On that note, thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review _Rain_ so far! It really encourages me to sit down and write! Please continue to support me until the very end, all right? I really hope to make this story a good one! _

_On another, apologetic note, I am very sorry this took so much longer than usual to post. It took a little while (almost a week) for my beta to get to it (Betas have lives, too!) but I'm really glad I waited. I did a lot of editing on Proser's advice and I honestly think the changes make the wait worth it. You'll just have to trust me. _

_I hope everyone had an amazing Thanksgiving. I definitely ate way too much. Maybe I'll start working on my New Year's Resolution to lose weight early this year…_

_Also, if you haven't checked out _proser132's _stuff, you really should. You'll be in for a real treat if you do! I recommend _Vienna_. It's post-CoS, but so, SO good. You won't regret it!_

_Until next time!_

_~AkizukiSakura_


	4. In Which There is a Rescue Sort Of

**Title: **_Rain  
><em>**Author: **_AkizukiSakura  
><em>**Pairing(s):**_ Roy/Ed  
><em>**Spoilers/Warnings: **_As far as I know, the spoilers are minimal. This diverges from both the manga and the anime, and I wouldn't be surprised if I get some facts wrong anyway (like the ages they were when each major event occurred). Also, this is __**YAOI**__. Don't like it, don't read it. Period._  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>_I do not own _Fullmetal Alchemist._ I make no monetary profit from the writing and posting of this, or any, fanfiction.  
><em>**Notes: **_While I have the facts straight, I don't actually have the plot pinned down to a linear format yet. So for now, I'm letting the characters write the story. It should prove interesting, at least.  
><em>**Dedication:**_ Normally I don't really do dedications, but I'll make an exception. This chapter is dedicated to _drkphoenyx _for being an amazing, devoted reviewer and a genuine friend, as well as to _Taranova_, whose review made me feel like someone who could be proud of her work. This chapter is for you two._

_I promise, even though this chapter seems like it's 'The Saffron Soul' all over again, it isn't. Just bear with me. You'll see._

_Many, many thanks to _proser132 _for taking the time to edit this for content and flow. Very talented writer and beta. Now, on to the story!_

**Chapter Four: **_In Which There is a Rescue… Sort of_

This situation was the very epitome of _bad_. Ed was sure he'd had worse things happen to him in his time in the military, but for some reason his usually sharp memory was drawing a blank. It was probably a side effect of the drug. He studiously ignored the fact that he had no trouble remembering anything else; he could still recite the Periodic Table, for example. Ed was never one to admit to how bad the situations he often found himself thrust into could be. If he was like that he'd never have fixed Alphonse.

To add further insult, he was being transported to a different area in the house in the most humiliating way he could imagine: he was being cradled like a bride carried over the threshold by her new husband. Had his body not been unnaturally relaxed due to the drug, Ed might have shuddered at the analogy. For one thing, he wasn't a fucking girl. For another, Dmitri had suggested he was interested in Ed for more than just the connection to Xerxes, and Ed wasn't particularly keen on discovering how true his instincts were.

He grunted softly as Dmitri jostled him a little and ignored the man's murmur of apology as he was shifted to rest more comfortably in his captor's arms. Forcibly, Ed thrust his revulsion and worry away, focusing instead on Dmitri's motives. The man wanted unlimited power and immortality. All right. That was a common desire among humans, though most of them lacked any real method of obtaining said power and longevity. Many people were afraid of death, and being all-powerful meant that immortal life was guaranteed to be pleasant. Unfortunately for Ed, Dmitri seemed utterly convinced that he had found a way, and his logic actually made sense – if Ed wanted to believe that time travel was possible.

Normally Ed could have cared less, because most of the crackpots who came up with these theories ended up dead when their fanciful transmutations backfired. However, this time _he_ was going to be the one in the middle of the array and, while he doubted he was going to live to a ripe old age anyway, he certainly would prefer to die doing something he'd chosen to do rather than being forced into it. At the very least, why couldn't this have happened on a mission like it usually did? Ed felt bad enough that he'd let himself become complacent. Did the man have to rub it in by capturing him on his way to work?

The light was getting better even as the air was getting mustier and the air turned damp. Despite the fact that they had not descended any stairs, Ed suspected they had gone underground. True, his vision was hazy – and the flickering of the lamps was not helping – but he was completely certain they were moving downward. It made sense, he supposed. Dmitri needed a large space to draw his circle and practice his alchemy without drawing any attention, thanks to the stupid Fuhrer's new law. The best place would be a cellar of some sort, though why it had taken so long to reach it was beyond Ed's temporarily limited comprehension.

It was only when Dmitri set him gently down on a surprisingly comfortable armchair and moved away that Ed got his first real look at the room. He couldn't turn his head at all and only the pillows he was propped against held him upright, so his view was limited, but he could see the broad, sweeping lines of two arrays inked on a concrete floor. Thanks to the drug, all he could make out was the overall size and shape of the arrays; the symbols were nothing more than black splotches to him at this point. From what he could see of the arrays, though, he could tell that they were nothing like the one that had been carved onto the little girl, further proof that the array he'd been attempting to pick apart had been a dud after all. More than likely it had been the lure Dmitri needed to scoop up Ed from right under the military's nose.

Dwelling on how easily the man's plan had worked would get him nowhere. Instead he turned back to trying to examine the new circles. He judged the larger array to be about fifteen feet across and the smaller to be perhaps ten feet across. Despite his poor vision, Ed knew what the arrays were for thanks to Dmitri's oh-so-helpful exposition. The larger array would be the one for travelling through time, which meant the other array was for 'bonding', whatever the hell _that_ was supposed to mean.

"_After all, I can't have my beautiful pet trying to escape me, can I? And I can't have you attacking me. This will ensure that you cannot do either."_

Ed turned the statement over in his mind, though it felt like his mind was churning concrete with the effort to think. An array to limit the distance he could travel from Dmitri, perhaps? And one to limit how close he could get? That couldn't be right. The second part of Ed's theory would mean that Dmitri would be unable to touch him either and, from the way the man had kissed him earlier, Ed sincerely doubted that was the case. Plus, thanks to his alchemy, Ed didn't need to be near Dmitri to attack him. He didn't even need to draw a circle, which gave Dmitri that much less time to counter anything Ed threw at him.

The inability to scowl was irritating. Ed didn't have much time before Dmitri did whatever it was he was trying to do and not only had he failed to come up with a counter array, due mostly in part to the fact that the other man was utterly insane and his arrays were likely to reflect that, but he still couldn't move. Even his automail was unresponsive, suggesting that the drug specifically targeted his nerves. More proof that Dmitri had been concocting this whole scheme with Ed as the explicit objective.

An arm curled under his knees, the other supporting his back, and goddammit it he was being held like a woman again! From the way Dmitri stepped nimbly over the inked lines of the first array, he was clearly ready to begin. Ed wished he could scowl his displeasure at the man as Dmitri set Ed down on the bare patch in the center of the array. Dmitri lingered long enough to push Ed's bangs out of his eyes before he vanished from Ed's limited sight. Furious, Ed tried to move _anything at all_ and found to his dismay that he was still utterly helpless.

"It won't be long now, Edward," Dmitri said from somewhere off to his right. Ed could tell the man had meant his words to be soothing, but if anything they only frustrated the blonde further. How the fuck was this happening to him? Everything he'd been through and he couldn't fight one delusional alchemist? If there really was a god, this must be his idea of a joke. That or irony.

Ed felt the crackle of alchemy heat the air above and around him, saw blue lightning arcing over the circle that surrounded him, and closed his eyes.

Well, _fuck._

If pressed to describe how the transmutation felt, Ed would say that it was like being tickled mercilessly. At first it was just uncomfortable, like the graze of a feather over his bare skin, but the sensation built upon itself. That single feather became hundreds, each amplified by tenfold. For a moment he was glad he couldn't make any sort of sound because, as the feelings intensified, they bordered upon painful before slipping gradually into excruciating. It wasn't the worst pain he'd ever felt in his life, but damn if it didn't still hurt!

After what seemed like an eternity, the light from the array faded from Ed's vision, though he was still half-blinded by the radiance and his ability to blink was severely hampered by the drug still coursing relentlessly through him. When his vision did finally clear enough for him to see, albeit with spots blinking across his sight, he found himself staring up at the same earthen ceiling as before. His mind clamored for answers. Wasn't it supposed to be time travel or some such nonsense? For a split second he dared to hope the array hadn't worked.

A moment later reality crashed down on him again as he remembered: There had been two arrays. One for the time travel and the one he was lying in right now. This one was supposed to bind him somehow. He didn't _feel_ any differently than usual, aside from the drug. Did that mean it hadn't worked after all? Could he _possibly_ be that lucky? Ed doubted it. Experience had taught him that if luck was required in a situation then he was doomed to failure – even playing poker with Al served to remind him of that. Dmitri's words only cemented his gloom.

"Perfect," purred Dmitri, and though Ed strove to turn his head to see the man all he could manage was a sort of halfhearted blink and the barest twitch of his fingers. Footsteps echoed in the room as Dmitri came over to kneel beside him. Despite his best efforts to glare at the man his facial muscles were no more obedient than his arm or leg muscles had been. He was forced to lie there, completely lax, as Dmitri examined him.

Fingers trailed over his bare upper arm, skimmed neatly up his neck to check his pulse, and came to rest on his face, lightly cupping his cheek in a way that could only be described as 'lovingly'. Ed felt sick.

"No doubt you are wondering, since you cannot ask. Never let it be said that I am a bad master," Dmitri mused calmly, leaning over so he could see Ed's eyes. "It is likely you do not feel any different. You are not meant to, and you will not know the extent of what I have done until the drug wears off."

Ed felt the hand leave his cheek to smooth his bangs and neaten his ponytail before Dmitri gathered his unresponsive form up and walked calmly across the room, setting Ed down in the center of the second transmutation circle. Confusion made its way to the forefront of Ed's mind. The second array was for the time travel, which Dmitri had said he only needed blood for. So then why…?

"It would seem that we have guests," Dmitri said softly, almost as though he'd read Ed's thoughts. _That_ idea was utterly disturbing on more levels than Ed cared to count. "It takes longer to activate my array with blood. I would have preferred to use your blood for a test run, rather than risk losing you, but I believe it would be best if we left before our uninvited guests arrive."

Once again Ed was settled gently in the center of an array. This time Dmitri's parting gift was a surprisingly gentle kiss. It was completely chaste but Ed felt no less violated now than he had when the man had full-on kissed him earlier. "I will see you on the other side," Dmitri whispered as he straightened, cast a final look at Ed, and made his way carefully out of the circle. This time Ed could see him in his peripheral vision and he watched as Dmitri pulled a glistening red stone from his pocket.

From what Ed could tell, the man knelt without an ounce of uncertainty and pressed his hands to the edge of the array. Power gathered at his hands, shifting quickly from the normal sapphire to a hellish crimson in the blind of an eye. Ed had enough time to gasp before a surge of energy crested above him, wavered, and then slammed down on him.

* * *

><p>Roy climbed out of the car, too intent on the nondescript little houses lining the streets to remember to shut his door. He heard it close anyway, probably courtesy of Riza, and turned his attention to the men lounging in an adjacent alley, figures shadowed courtesy of the street lamps casting light over the cobblestones of the relatively new street. He glanced swiftly over them, cataloguing who was here. All of his team had made it, sans Falman, as had Hughes and Armstrong. Roy glanced quizzically at Riza, somewhat surprised that there were not more.<p>

"I chose only those who could be trusted, sir," she answered softly to his unspoken question about the small group. "I did consider the military police, but whenever an Elric is mixed with alchemy, things get…complicated."

Roy frowned faintly. Hawkeye was right, of course. They were all so used to covering for Ed and Al's past that it must have been second nature to choose only the people who could be relied upon. It didn't soothe his feelings at all, and his uneasiness nearly tripled when he spotted a familiar mop of sandy blonde hair lingering near the back of the group. Alphonse gave him a mulish, stubborn look, his bronze eyes daring Roy to try to order him home.

One of the first things he'd been taught at the Academy was: _Don't give an order if you don't think it will be followed._ A sigh feathered from his lips. Ed would kill him for letting Al tag along, but Al would find a creative, _painful_ way to get his revenge if he tried to force the younger man to leave. He allowed himself only a shake of the head in Alphonse's direction to let the young man know he didn't approve. Al's only response was a challenging tilt of his head.

_Elrics_, Roy thought tiredly_. Obstinate, the lot of them._ Al was more levelheaded than his older brother, and a hell of a lot politer, but when it came to his older brother he displayed a stubborn streak that rivaled Ed's. "What do we know about the house?" Roy asked instead once they were all tucked securely out of sight in the alley, choosing to fight the battles he could actually win.

Breda produced a copy of the blueprints, likely taken from the archives. "It's a new construction," the portly man informed Roy, unfolding the large packet of papers and pointing to the year recorded on the top left as proof. "Built just over a year ago, two floors. Two bedrooms, a bathroom, living room, kitchen, dining room," he added, pointing to each room in turn. He passed the designs to Roy, who examined them with a frown.

"Alphonse," Roy said finally, beckoning the younger alchemist to his side. Al padded quietly over to peer at the drawings Roy held out. "In your experience, how large does an array need to be for a neighbor sitting two houses away on the left to be able to see the light of the reaction?"

Al blinked up at the General and then down at the blueprints, understanding lighting his features. "It would have to be several feet across at least, sir, with enough room for the alchemist to maneuver around it," he said quietly, studying the lines intently. "From the layout of this house, I'd guess that it would have been activated in the kitchen or the downstairs bedroom. The bathroom isn't large enough and the living and dining rooms are on the opposite side of our informant's house." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "If I knew what the kidnapper was trying to do with Brother, I'd be able to give you a better estimate on the size of the array, but…"

Roy could hear the frustration in Al's voice and, for a moment, he wavered. These boys had been through so much already. Was it really too much to ask that they could just be left alone? Even as he thought it, though, Roy knew it was impossible. The Elrics were entirely too intelligent to just fade into anonymity. The world would always be after them, for one reason or another, and the realization saddened him. "That's quite all right, Alphonse," he said finally, pushing the emotion aside. What mattered right now was finding Edward. "For now, we should – Alphonse?"

Al had gone rigid, his gaze wide as he darted to the alley entrance to peer around the corner. He didn't appear to hear Roy's continued attempts to find out what was wrong until Roy grabbed his shoulder and spun him, forcing the blonde to meet his eyes. "Someone's doing alchemy nearby," Al said finally when he finally seemed to understand Roy's questions, his voice barely above a whisper. "Really, _really_ strong alchemy. How can you not feel that?" he snapped at Roy.

"Just because I'm an alchemist doesn't mean I can feel an array going off," Roy replied just as shortly, watching Al closely. The youth looked shaken and the color faded from his complexion at a rate that alarmed Roy. "Have you always been able to do this, Alphonse? Feel alchemy nearby?" That blonde head nodded slowly. "And Edward?" Another nod.

"I thought it was just an alchemist thing," Al said timidly, wincing faintly. Roy realized his fingers were probably leaving marks on Al's shoulder and he hastily let go, fingers curling into a fist before he forced them to relax.

Roy ran a hand through his hair, annoyed. "We don't have time to discuss this right now. Can you tell where it's coming from?" The expression on Al's face told Roy everything he needed to know. An array had been set off in the house they were watching, yet despite that knowledge Roy could see no light other than that of the street lamps. He cursed under his breath and turned back to his men. "Armstrong and Breda, take the back door. Havoc, cover them at sniping distance. Alphonse and I will take the front door, with Hawkeye covering at sniping distance." He paused, glancing at Fuery. The small man wasn't the best to have in a firefight, but he was invaluable when it came to electronics. Even so, Roy didn't want to leave him alone.

"I'll stay with Kain," Hughes said quietly, having obviously noticed his friend's, dilemma, and earning a quick, relieved smile from Roy. Hughes never did like guns and with a bullet still lodged in his chest he wasn't the best person to conduct a raid with, either. As protection for the smaller man, however, he was perfect. There were very few who even held a candle to Maes' skills of observation.

Roy turned back to the smaller man. "Fuery, man the radios and monitor what's being broadcast on each frequency. Also, see if you can get into a telephone line and secure it. If everything goes to hell, get the police here and call General Cromwell." Lieutenant General Cromwell was Roy's direct superior and one of his most dependable supporters. The man, who was almost sixty, was also a decent alchemist, though he was not certified; mostly because he dealt more in theory than in practical applications. Fuery murmured his acknowledgment as Hawkeye, Havoc, Breda, and Armstrong hurried quietly away.

Before Al could follow them, Roy grabbed his shoulder. "I don't want to have to give Fullmetal any bad news when we find him," Roy said quietly, meeting Al's expression squarely. Al took a breath, probably to say something along the lines of _I can take care of myself _but Roy shook his head before the younger man could speak. "I _mean_ it, Alphonse. Whatever else happens, _take care of yourself first_." Only when Al nodded grudgingly did Roy let him go. They slipped out of the alley together to cautiously approach the building.

As Roy kept watch, Al clapped his hands quietly together and pressed them lightly against the door. Soft light shone under his palms and rippled outward, though the reaction light was noticeably dim. After several moments he brushed his hand through his short hair and reached out, turning the doorknob and lightly pushing the door open, ignoring the sound of caution Roy made. "If there were any traps, I disabled them," Al said softly. "The door was already unlocked."

Roy wondered about that. This neighborhood, while not exactly unsafe, was not considered harmless. It wasn't the slums, but, despite its relative newness, it wasn't much safer than the darker areas of Central could be. Anyone with sense locked their door, even those on the wealthier side of the city, unless they didn't have anything valuable to steal or they just didn't care. Considering how well the kidnapper had gone to ground after taking Fullmetal, Roy doubted it was the latter. He froze when Al held out a hand, eyes closed and head cocked to one side.

"…The others are inside," he whispered finally, so soft that Roy had to strain to hear him. "I can hear Armstrong and Breda walking through the kitchen, but nothing else." Roy glanced at Al in silent awe. All those years in a suit of armor seemed to have done wonders for his sensory skills. The appreciation was short-lived, however, as a quick search of the house revealed that it was empty.

Breda clicked on a flashlight once they'd ascertained that the small house was vacant. Dmitri was not at work; Falman was at the Gilded Lily right now to watch for him. If Dmitri had come in to work, they'd have heard about it on the radio broadcasts – which was one of the reasons Roy had Fuery monitoring them.

There were signs that the house had been occupied until recently, though, and the downstairs bedroom had been decorated oddly: The room was Spartan and entirely white, from the drapes on the windows to the sheets on the bed. Al had noticed the marks of chains on the bedposts and Roy had found the most telling evidence of all – three long strands of golden blonde hair in the tangle of sheets.

"If they aren't here now, they were until recently. The dishes in the sink have food on them that's still good," Breda said grimly, examining the living room with his flashlight, noting the fresh ash that still littered the fireplace. Roy stood near the doorway, arms folded and expression calculating; Breda couldn't even be sure his superior had heard him. Alphonse was in the white bedroom, still looking for some kind of clue as to where his brother might be now, and Armstrong was staring at the impressive bookshelves with a frown on his usually genial features. It was Al, coming back into the room after a fruitless search, who noticed Armstrong's strange expression.

"Is something wrong, Major?" he asked politely, pulling Roy from his thoughts with an almost audible snap. Both he and Breda gave Armstrong a questioning look.

"This house is not nearly as splendid as my home," Armstrong rumbled, "and the décor and value of this place suggests that our culprit is not wealthy. However…" He fell silent again, mustache quivering. "These bookcases… I recognize the manufacturer. The exquisite craft has been passed down the Marshal line for generations, much like my artistic ability. Kimberly Marshal has designed several pieces for my home, and they are quite expensive."

Breda scratched his head and came forward, illuminating the bookcase with his flashlight. "And that means…?" he asked, glancing the long way up to see Armstrong's face. The man's lips were pursed and his blue eyes narrowed as he stared at the well-crafted wooden shelves. Without a word he reached down, covered the light from Breda's flashlight with one hand, and extended the other to pull a book outward. To everyone's surprise, the book would not leave the shelf. Armstrong grasped the edge of the bookshelf and began to tug, muscles bunching under his jacket with the effort.

After several tense moments of nothing happening, the bookcase slid outward to reveal a plain wooden door behind it. "It means," he said in a very satisfied tine, "that there is more to this house that we are not seeing," Armstrong replied finally. "It would be best to leave the flashlight off once we open the door. It would not bode well for us should the light give away our presence."

Roy stared at the newly revealed door in utter shock. Al quietly thanked the major and Breda examined the bookcase with renewed interest, revealing that there were oiled hinges fastened on the back of the shelf. Even with the hinges, however, the sheer amount of books on the shelf made it extraordinarily heavy, as Roy found when he moved over to conduct his own investigation. Apparently Miss Marshal's family specialized in furniture with secrets. He would have to look into the family's work later. There was no telling how many criminals they'd lost to tricks like this.

"Major Armstrong," Roy said finally, interrupting the quiet conversation between the big man and Alphonse. "Wait here. If anyone enters the house, detain them," he ordered. "Breda, go to Hughes. Tell him we've found something and stay with him. If anyone suspicious tries to enter the house, you have the same orders as Armstrong." He glanced at Al, taking in the younger man's folded arms and flattened lips. Roy wanted nothing more than to tell him to stay put, but he knew there was no way Al would stay behind now. He turned back to Armstrong, nodding in response to Breda's salute as Second Lieutenant left.

"If we aren't back in twenty minutes, have Fuery call the military police and the General anyway. Alphonse, come with me, and remember what I told you earlier," he said finally. As Armstrong walked quietly across the room to get a better view of the kitchen and front door, Roy checked his gloves and glanced at Al. "Can you still feel alchemy?"

Al shook his head. "It faded while I was searching the white bedroom," he replied. "I came back to tell you, but the major…"

"We're going in blind, then," Roy acknowledged, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together idly. "Stay behind me, watch our backs, and keep as quiet as possible."

He barely waited for Al's reply before he reached out and pulled open the door.

* * *

><p>The first thing Al noticed about the passageway was that it sloped gently downward, mostly because he accidentally kicked a small rock and it tumbled much further than it would have on flat ground with the force that had acted upon it. The passage was curved and sparsely lit, with just enough lanterns placed in small alcoves to light the next steps ahead. The passage more of a tunnel than anything, held up with sturdy wooden beams and the earth under their feet packed tightly from being tread upon often.<p>

It definitely wasn't what he was expecting to see. Al could remember the basement of his old home – the smell of earth, a little wet, but well lit. His father's experiments always bubbled away in glass tubes and bottles, and paraphernalia littered dusty shelves. The basement had been about the size of the house and only just tall enough that Hohenhiem could walk around without bashing his head on the beams.

_This_ passage had already led them several meters under the house; though, it had yet to do anything but sprawl onward in neatly carved turns. On the plus side there was no way they could get lost, and the decline, while noticeable, was not too steep. They would be able to run back up without tiring as easily as they might have with typical stairs.

Almost five minutes after they began their descent, however, the feel of alchemy began to build anew. Al caught Roy's sleeve and the General stopped instantly, turning. Dark eyes scanned the tunnel behind them automatically before resting questioningly on Al.

"Energy's being gathered to activate an array again," Al said urgently. "It's definitely below us, and it feels a lot closer than it did before. I don't think we have far to go, but I don't think we have long before the transmutation begins." To Al's immense relief Roy immediately started walking again, his pace noticeably quicker than it had been. As they hastened downward, Al noticed that the lamps became a little bit brighter and were spaced a little closer together, illuminating the walls and floor better.

A shiver crept over Al as he noticed the darker splotches on the floor. Pretending would do no good. He could tell the spots were where blood had soaked into the dirt and he could only hope the blood was not his brother's. Ed had been healthy enough the day he'd gone missing but he wasn't the type to go quietly. It was entirely possible and highly probable that he'd been injured when he was taken.

Ed was still alive. Al felt it deep inside; for now his brother was all right, but time was running out, as usual. It seemed that time was always against them.

It was when they could finally see the end of the tunnel that Al stumbled into Roy. The General turned a little, catching Al as he stumbled again and holding him steady. Before he could ask if Al was all right, Al gasped in a sharp breath. He didn't even have time to explain before alchemical power exploded outward, wiping his thoughts from his head and making his senses go haywire. Red light edged with white _screamed_ through the room ahead of them, shaking the tunnel and sending dust cascading down over Al and the General.

Without waiting for it to stabilize, Al stumbled onward, forcing his legs into a sprint despite the tremors that kept throwing him into the walls. He ignored the General's footsteps behind him as the man tried to catch up. Normal alchemy shone blue and a backlash shimmered a sinister, black-edged red. This shade of crimson could only be produced by a Philosopher's Stone.

As he forced himself onward, Al thought with utter certainty, _We were too late._

* * *

><p><em>How very like an Elric to completely ignore my orders<em>, Roy thought as he struggled after Alphonse. The part of him trained to think in situations like this was disgruntled with Al's headlong rush into danger. The part of him that had watched Edward grow from a lovely child into a beautiful young man wailed at his encumbered pace, wanting to get to Ed, _now_, damn it.

It took more effort than he would have liked to admit to suppress the urge to quicken his pace. He winced when Al slammed into a wall for the third time, knowing the young man was going to end up with bruises at the very least.

"_Brother!_" Al's shout rocketed through Roy with more force than he'd thought possible, and the terrified note in the younger Elric's voice was enough to spur Roy the last few steps out of the tunnel. He emerged in a room that was at least two hundred square feet in size. His eyes skipped over the tables lining the edges of the room, all covered with books, papers, and flasks. He noted these details in a split second before his attention was drawn to the array, the man kneeling next to it and, just visible through the maelstrom of alchemical energy, Ed.

Roy's heart went tight with fear and fury hardened his face. He raised his hand, fingers poised to click and rational thought gone. Only the sudden grip on his wrist kept him from unleashing his anger as red-hot flames. He turned his glare on Alphonse, who looked upset but sure.

"Don't! There's so much energy in here right now that if you add to it you could kill all of us, including brother." Only the helpless look on Al's youthful features kept Roy from snapping anyway and to hell with the consequences. He relaxed his fingers and Al let him go. "We can't even do anything about _him,_" Al said furiously, jerking his chin at Dmitri Ivanov. "If he loses concentration right now…" Al shuddered. "I don't even want to _think_ about what would happen."

Roy got Al's message loud and clear. They could only wait until the transmutation was complete and hope that whatever this was left Ed alive at the end.

* * *

><p>It <em>hurt<em>. It felt as though electricity sang discordantly through every single one of Ed's nerves. It was like the pain of having his automail reattached, amplified by at _least_ a hundred. It was pain in a way Ed had never imagined he could feel, the sensation breaking through the drug. Earlier Ed had thought if he could go his whole life without ever having to deal with the paralyzing drug again he'd be happy. Now he was honestly reconsidering that sentiment.

He was blind to anything that wasn't pearl-edged crimson and deaf to all but the howling of the transmutation activating around him, fueled by the Philosopher's Stone. In a way he was glad it was all he could see and hear – any other sensory inputs would have been too much right now. Just the feeling of smooth concrete under his back was enough to add to his pain, and even the feathery feel of his hair on his brow was excruciating.

Beyond the pain, deep within his alchemical core, something uncurled and stretched languidly, almost catlike, before reaching out to that crimson lightning as if Ed was a metal rod to ground the power. Alchemy rocked through him, forcing his back into an arch and tearing a scream from deep within, something animalistic and terrified.

This was worse than the feeling of having his arm and leg taken by the Gate.

Darkness, edged in bright cerise light, began to form in his mind. It was contained in dark grey, intricately carved stone and for a split second of terrifying proportions Ed thought the Gate was going to materialize. Three times was plenty in a person's life to deal with that monstrosity.

To his relief, it wasn't _the_ gate that took shape, but it was definitely a portal of some sort. Even better, the pain was finally receding, though it was still very much present, but this was more on the level of his automail; painful, but manageable.

Surprised that he actually could now, Edward sat up slowly, muscles aching with every tiny movement he made. He was still underground. The tables, laden with laboratory equipment and research notes, were scorched but otherwise unharmed. The arrays on the floor were gone, wiped out by the power of the alchemy, and Dmitri was still kneeling on the floor, ashen but alive. If not for the victorious light shining in his eyes Ed would have thought the transmutation had failed.

Instead, Dmitri was staring behind Ed with a look of utter awe on his face. For the first time Ed noticed who their visitors were. Al and Mustang were here, and Ed felt his lips twist into a scowl. Why the fuck had Mustang let Al come with him? Ed was going to beat the shit out of the General when this was all over!

No sooner had he promised himself that Mustang was due a beating than he noticed the shock on the General's face morph to horror. Before Ed could turn to see what was so terrifying, red tendrils wrapped around his waist, legs, and arms and began to drag him backwards. He glanced over his shoulder and realized quite abruptly that, no, the transmutation had definitely _not_ failed because he was staring at the stone-bordered portal he'd seen just before the array had died down. Immediately he began to struggle against the gate that had him in its clutches.

Dmitri got to his feet, drawing Roy's attention, and slipped what remained of the Philosopher's Stone in his pocket. "It seems my theory was sound," the man murmured. He walked towards Ed, his gaze fastened on the gate. It was clear that he was intending to follow Ed into the portal.

Al's exclamation of surprise made Dmitri pause and turn just as Roy sprinted past him. The man's expression of triumph shifted rapidly to one of shocked anger as Roy reached for Ed, then yelled in surprise when red tendrils shot out to grab him, too.

"No!" Dmitri shouted, but it was too late. The portal dragged Ed and Roy through, blazed several different shades of red, and vanished as though it had never been, leaving a furious Dmitri and a shattered Alphonse to stare in disbelief at where Ed had been only moments earlier.

* * *

><p>Heat, blistering and brutal, brought Roy back to consciousness. He sat up with a groan as what felt like every muscle in his body clamored for his attention, each shouting that they hurt worse than the other and throbbing to prove it. He squinted in the harsh sunlight, trying to remember what had happened. The last thing he could recall doing was trying to find Fullmetal. He and Alphonse had followed the tunnel down…<p>

Recollection slammed into him and he shot to his feet as though he'd been electrocuted, glancing around at his surroundings without really seeing them, searching desperately for Edward. A flash of gold a few meters away drew his attention and he stumbled over to it. Finding that it was indeed Fullmetal, Roy dropped to his knees next to his unconscious subordinate, pressing his fingers to the pulse on the blonde's neck. A moment later he breathed a sigh of relief. The pulse was a little irregular but it was there, strong as ever.

However, the younger man was giving no signs of waking up any time soon. In this heat, that could be a problem, particularly on Ed's uncovered automail. Roy glared up at the sun. Despite the incessant heat, Roy could tell that his skin had not yet burned. Since he typically burned in even mild heat within an hour, he could guess they had not been out here for long. He glanced down at Edward again, noting the younger man's exposed arms and feet. Perhaps they hadn't been out long but there was no guarantee they would be able to escape the harsh sunlight unfazed. Roy shrugged out of his heavy military jacket and covered Ed with it. Though the jacket was designed to fall to Roy's navel it covered significantly more of Edward.

The jacket was the winter one, made of wool rather than cotton, and it would make Ed sweat in the heat, but for the moment it was better than leaving Fullmetal out in the sun. With that taken care of, Roy got to his feet, shading his eyes to look around. As far as he could see there was nothing but sand and, for one horrible moment Roy could recall Ishval. His free hand tightened into a fist with the effort of pushing away the horrid memories. He didn't have the time or the energy to waste on reliving the past. If he didn't do something soon, he and Ed could very well die out here.

Scanning the horizon again, slowly, he froze, eyes narrowing. There in the distance was a darker line just visible through the waves of heat coming off the sand. He didn't know what it was exactly, but it had to be better than lying out in the sun. The problem, however, was getting there. He knew from experience that Edward was heavy because of the automail and right now he would be heavier still because he'd be dead weight. The question was, was he strong enough to lug Fullmetal all the way out there? Distances could look deceptively short in the desert.

A dry cough and a grumbled curse brought his attention back to Edward who was, thank god, waking up. The blonde stared at the jacket covering him like it was a foreign object and then rolled onto his side. To Roy's surprise Ed's movements were clumsy and uncoordinated, not at all like his usual grace. "Are you all right?" he asked finally, a little surprised when Ed turned very slowly to look at him. The blonde's expression was twisted into a grimace.

"Feel like I've been hit by a goddamn train and my vision's all spotty, but otherwise I'm peachy fucking keen," Ed growled back at him. Despite the coarse words, however, Ed's tone lacked the bite it usually did.

Concerned, Roy knelt and gripped the blonde's chin firmly, turning Ed's face toward him. Ignoring Ed's irritated look, he conducted a brief field exam. Falman had more medical training than most of Roy's team, but Roy still knew the basics from Ishval. He frowned as he mentally diagnosed his young subordinate: Ed's breathing was irregular and a little slow. His pupils were dilated despite the harsh sunlight and his reaction time was much slower than usual. It looked like he'd been poisoned. On top of that, his lips were too dry even for this heat, so he might be a little dehydrated as well.

Roy blinked when Ed pushed his hand away.

"Bastard drugged me," the blonde muttered. "Not sure what it was, just that it was paralytic in nature. S'only just wearing off." Studiously disregarding Roy's frown, Ed climbed shakily to his feet. For a moment it looked like he was going to fall over again but the tightening of his lips suggested he stayed upright through sheer will. Like Roy had, Ed shielded his eyes to scan their surroundings, but a moment later he made a disgusted sound.

"You can't see very well right now, can you Fullmetal?" Roy asked almost conversationally as he got to his feet. He glanced at his jacket, looked at Ed, and calmly draped it around the younger alchemist's shoulders. To his surprise Ed didn't immediately shrug the jacket off. Ed didn't answer his question, but Roy didn't need him too. Roy doubted Ed could see more than a few meters in front of him with his eyes dilated like that, particularly in this bright light. It was a testament to Ed's willpower that his eyes were even open at all.

Ed grunted finally. "Can't see shit," he complained, closing his eyes briefly. "Too much fucking sunlight. Can you tell where we are?"

"Looks like a desert to me," Roy replied calmly, shading his eyes again. "Nothing but sand as far as I can see, though it looks like there's something northwest of our position."

Ed turned in the direction Roy had indicated and immediately started walking, his footsteps shaky. "Come on then, bastard," he called over his shoulder. "Not gonna do us any good to stand around like idiots. I can find water in the sand using my alchemy, but I can't do shit about food. Wherever that is, at least it gives us a fixed point to walk by until I can see again."

"What does you seeing have to do with it?" Roy asked, easily catching up to his flagging subordinate. Watching Ed struggle along, Roy hesitated, then slung Ed's flesh arm around his waist, steadying a hand against the metal shoulder. Even with the wool jacket Roy could feel the metal heating. It was a testament to just how tired Ed was that he didn't even offer a token complaint.

"I can guide us by the stars, moron," Ed replied snidely, shifting his arm more comfortably around Roy's waist. "If we try and travel during the day the sun'll bake us alive." He fell silent after that, obviously conserving his concentration on moving his legs. Though Ed acted tough, Roy could tell that the drug hadn't worn off completely. It was obviously a supreme effort just for Ed to walk. Talking would have probably been asking too much right now.

They came to a small oasis before reaching their original destination. By that time the sun was setting and Ed's eyes were doing better. The oasis was nothing special, just a small cluster of palm trees and a tiny spring, but the water was clear and the trees provided a bit of shade. Ed looked out over the sand, eyes narrowed against the sunlight and lips settled in a dark frown. Roy, who was just sitting down under the trees, voiced a questioning sound.

"Looks like a city of some sort," Ed reported slowly. "I can't make out any real detail, but it doesn't look like any of the cities in Amestris." He hesitated in the same way he did when he was trying to leave certain details out of his reports and Roy narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Spit it out, Fullmetal. What's bothering you?"

"Well… I've seen sketches of Xing, and I've heard about it from Ling… None of those match what I can see from this city. Xing doesn't have any cities this large bordering the desert, for one, and these buildings are made from sandstone or clay, not wood." Ed crossed his arms, clearly agitated about something. Before Roy could say anything, Ed added, very quietly, "I've only ever seen a city like this in that bastard's books."

Roy frowned at Edward. Fullmetal very rarely mentioned Van Hohenhiem, but when he did it was usually not coupled with good news. Case in point: Father and the Homunculi. "And that bothers you because…?" he drawled bitingly. To his surprise the look Edward sent him was almost uncertain rather than the bitter anger he expected. That expression on Ed's usually irritated features was enough to tell him that something could potentially be very, _very_ wrong.

Ed drew a shaky breath. "It bothers me because I think… I think that's _Xerxes_."

_Word Count: 7,550_

_AN: Man, this chapter took _forever_ to write. Not because it was hard or anything (it was actually one of the easier ones), but because I kept getting distracted. First it was by a website with funny text messages that had been auto-corrected by an iPhone (one of the reasons I'll stick with my Bionic) that I read for several hours, then my daughter wanted to play (she's so cute, how can I say no? I'm a total Hughes. Seriously – I have a packet of photos in my purse). Then the hospital called to bug me because they had the wrong insurance information and were trying to make me pay money, and then my mom called…_

_Goodness. When I say this took a full day to write, I really mean it._

_So. Not much to say about this chapter, which is ironic considering it's the chapter that defines _Rain_ as its own story, as opposed to being similar in plot to other fiction. I hope everyone enjoys the path _Rain_ has started to take._

_I've got _Drunken Promise_ and _Lullaby for a Stormy Night_ ready to post, but I'm not going to just yet. I'm being selfish and waiting for more reviews for _Retribution_. Considering how many people have favorited it without leaving a review, I don't feel as bad as I suppose I should._

_For anyone who is wondering, I don't foresee this story being very long – perhaps ten chapters at the most. I'm still a novice when it comes to writing chapter stories, so I can't write anything as massive as BeautifulFiction's _The Saffron Soul_ or Proser's _Supine and Cold_. Sorry, I'm not that talented yet, and I'd rather write something short than risk leaving everyone on a four year hiatus._

_I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, and look forward to hearing from everyone! Your feedback really makes me happy, and it gives me a reason to sit down to write._

_Finally, I would like to thank _drkphoenyx _and_ Taranova_ one final time. You two rock totally!_

_~AkizukiSakura_


	5. A Very Short Interlude

**Title:** _Rain__  
><em>**Author:** _AkizukiSakura__  
><em>**Pairing(s):**_ Roy/Ed__  
><em>**Spoilers/Warnings:** _As far as I know, the spoilers are minimal. This diverges from both the manga and the anime, and I wouldn't be surprised if I get some facts wrong anyway (like the ages they were when each major event occurred). Also, this is __YAOI__. Don't like it, don't read it. Period._  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _I do not own _Fullmetal Alchemist._ I make no monetary profit from the writing and posting of this, or any, fanfiction.__  
><em>**Notes:** _For the most part I have everything straight in my head. Now, all I have to do is write it. Sorry for the delay; explanations (read: excuses) are at the end.__  
><em>

_Normally proser132 beta's for me, but I chose not to in this case because it's only an interlude. Please read the author's notes at the end._

**Interlude**

If this was how Ed had felt when Al had been wrenched away and doomed to several long years in the Gate, Al could understand the fortitude that his older brother possessed to give up an arm after having just lost a leg. Horror wiped the younger Elric's mind almost completely blank as he stared at the spot where Ed had been only moments before.

He might have stayed like that for much, much longer had a furious snarl not escaped the man responsible for this chain of events. Al's expression snapped to Ed's captor. The man had been calm and collected only moments earlier when Al and General Mustang burst in on him, but now he looked as though his whole world had collapsed around him. Al was sickened to note how similar Dmitri's expression was to Ed's when his older brother had discovered the method to creating a Philosopher's Stone.

Thinking of Edward galvanized Al into action. He didn't know if Dmitri had even acknowledged his existence yet but he wasn't going to be polite and wait. He lunged towards the man and swung his fist upwards in an anger-fueled uppercut aimed at Dmitri's jaw. Unfortunately for Al, Dmitri chose that moment to realize he wasn't alone. A quick sidestep saved the perpetrator from unconsciousness. It was times like this that Al almost missed his armor; one blow from an iron gauntlet would have knocked the man down with barely a fight. As it was he only managed to clip Dmitri's jaw.

Al ignored the painful sting spreading rapidly through his hand from the impact of bone-on-bone and scowled at his adversary. "What did you do to Brother?" he demanded, not at all mollified by the way Dmitri cradled his clearly bruised jaw. If Al expected Dmitri to be cowed by the punch, however, he was doomed to disappointment. The clearly older man was giving Al an appraising look that he didn't like one bit.

"Alphonse Elric, I presume?" Dmitri questioned genially. His words were a little slurred in his effort to not move his jaw too much, but Al was more concerned with the fact that this criminal knew his name. A moment later he realized that it wasn't really a stretch for Dmitri to know his name; the man had clearly been watching Ed and Al for a very long time. Being surprised over something that must have been easy to figure out was stupid.

Before Al could respond, Dmitri spoke again. "You won't even be able to find Edward, much less reach him." There was bitterness in the man's words, and Al was startled to realize that Dmitri was speaking out of regret rather than taunting him. "All those years I struggled, and yet, at the last minute, you managed to blow my hard work to the winds. This is not something I can easily overlook…"

Al took a step back in spite of himself at the venom that crept into Dmitri's voice. As it turned out, that step saved him from a nasty impalement on a section of the wall; he had not even noticed the tiny array inscribed on the wall until Dmitri activated it. Inwardly he berated himself. _Mistakes can cost you your life!_ he reminded himself. As always, he was mildly amused at how similar his inner observer sounded to his teacher. However, now was definitely not the time to be thinking of Teacher.

Having been attacked first, Al had no qualms at all about exchanging blows with his adversary. A flash of light indicated that Dmitri was activating the array once more, and a moment later another spike of wall shot out. There was no time to think anymore. Al dodged the spike, braced his hands on the protrusion, and leapt over it, clenching his fists. Shock flickered over his adversary's face; obviously Dmitri did not know that Al, too, was proficient in fighting hand-to-hand. Even so, the man's surprise faded quickly and Dmitri revealed a surprising adeptness for fighting as well when he ducked the punch Al aimed at his jaw.

Al landed and spun, shifting immediately into a defensive stance in anticipation of Dmitri's retaliation, but Dmitri was already on the move – toward the passageway. Al scowled. He was trying to escape! Dmitri disappeared into the passage as Al took off after him. To Al's astonishment Dmitri was a lot faster than he looked, as evidenced by the fact that Al couldn't quite catch up with him. The other man was fast enough that Al couldn't see him at all by the time the door hove into view.

Bursting through the door, Al glanced swiftly around, fully intending on pursuing Dmitri further, and skid to a halt as his gaze fell upon Armstrong. The large man was examining his gauntlet, and at his feet was an unconscious Dmitri. Al leaned on his knees as he caught his breath, unable to suppress the smile that came to his lips. "Nice reflexes, major," he commented when he was able, approaching. He knelt to inspect the prominent lump on Dmitri's forehead.

"It was no trouble, Alphonse Elric!" Armstrong announced grandly. "When I heard the rushing footsteps, I knew that something must be happening, and I did not recognize this man when he exited. He did not halt when instructed, so I gave him a demonstration of the beautiful muscles and artistic abilities that have been passed down through the Armstrong line for generations!" The blonde mustache twitched. "Where are Edward Elric and the brigadier general?"

Al, used to the major's eccentricities by now, merely sighed. "I'm not really sure, major. We reached the basement level just as this man had my brother in a transmutation circle. He activated the circle, but…" Al hesitated, glancing up at Armstrong. The man was staring down at him, arms crossed and expression serious. Al knew that plenty of people assumed Armstrong was all brawn and no brains, but Al knew better. The exam to become a state alchemist wasn't something easily passed, even by someone who had studied. Plenty of questions were theoretical.

Even so, Al didn't want to go through the story more than once. "Let's get him to Headquarters. I'll tell you there, along with everyone else." Armstrong looked like he might want to object but, to Al's relief, he simply knelt and picked up Dmitri.

"Let us depart, then, Alphonse Elric."

* * *

><p>"…and when we got there, he had Brother in the middle of an array. I'm guessing Ed was drugged, because he wasn't restrained at all." Al sighed and Riza could tell he was obviously displeased with the afternoon's events. "When the array was activated, it brought up some kind of gate. Not <em>the <em>Gate," Al added hastily when everyone looked at him in shock. "Just…some kind of portal. Before I knew what was happening, it was grabbing for Ed, and the Brigadier General went after him."

"And it took them both… I see…" Hawkeye fingered the butt of her pistol idly and stared absently through the window of her absent superior's office. Twilight had fallen, cloaking the city in a dusky red hue that was rapidly fading to the deep blue of night. "It's not like him to rush into a situation like that," she observed mildly. Though she could almost feel the questions directed at her for that comment, she chose not to elaborate. Her comrades were extremely devoted to the General, but that did not make them the most observant people around.

With a sigh, Riza turned her attention to Al and Armstrong. "Well, you two are our alchemists," she stated. "What do you suggest we do?" She knew that technically Al wasn't military, and that Ed would murder anyone who tried to recruit him, but she also knew that trying to leave the younger Elric out of these proceedings could have potentially disastrous results. Besides, Al was a genius in his own right.

"Well, we took him to a cell for the time being and the Major searched him." Al's glance flickered to Armstrong. "Though, we came straight here after, so I don't know what, if anything, was found." There was a distinctive invitation in Al's statement. Armstrong seemed to pick up on it readily enough, for he began sifting through his pockets and laying his findings on Roy's desk. As Armstrong worked, Al turned to Riza. "We didn't have time to search his lab, though, so after we talk to him I'd like to go back."

Riza smiled wryly. The ever-polite Alphonse Elric had phrased his statement as a request, but she knew he wasn't really asking permission. Even if she tried to tell him no, she knew he'd go anyway. "Be discrete, Alphonse. It's going to be very difficult to cover up the Brigadier General's absence, let alone Edward's. I'm not sure how long we'll be able to maintain the charade. That being said, whatever you find…"

"I'll definitely let you know," Al promised as he turned to the small pile of items on the desk and began sorting through them.

Havoc chose that moment to speak up. "Hey, how exactly are we going to cover this up, anyway? There are still piles of paperwork that the General left behind. If they don't get routed soon…"

"I can forge his signature," Falman asserted stiffly. Everyone turned to stare at him and his cheeks tinged a faint red. "It was to his recommendation that I learn to do it, 'just in case'." He coughed faintly and added, somewhat hesitantly, "I believe he simply wished to get out of his paperwork sometimes, though."

Breda snorted, clearly amused, and quailed under Hawkeye's stern stare. About to speak, she noticed that Al had gone pale. Concerned, she walked over to him and put a solicitous hand on his shoulder. "Alphonse?" she questioned gently, following his gaze. Surprise overrode anything else she might have said. Resting innocuously on Roy's desk was a single, flawless red stone. She drew in her breath sharply. "Is that…?"

Al's expression turned grim. "Yes," he replied just as quietly, "it is. And it's a complete one, though it's severely depleted." Al frowned, his grip on the desk tightening until his knuckles turned white. "How did he get a hold of a Philosopher's Stone?"

* * *

><p><em>AN: Man… It's sort of funny, but the hardest decision I had to make here was deciding once and for all whether I could capitalize ranks or not… Ultimately I decided I would, though I'm fairly certain you aren't supposed to. Oh well._

_So, this is really short. It's only about 1500 words, but it's meant to be short because it's only an interlude. _I'm only updating it now because I figure it's better than nothing..._ Originally I had planned to upload this along with chapter five, but I got hit by the worst case of writer's block I've had in a long, long time.  
><em>

_I think it's because I found an awesome mod for Minecraft called 'Equivalent Exchange' and I went into a Minecraft binge for a while. Anyway. I haven't just been slacking off playing computer games, I promise. A lot of the delay here came about because we're moving soon and I'm trying not to procrastinate in the packing this time. Also, my daughter is finally getting teeth, and ohboy is she fussy! Trying to pack up my house and deal with her fussy, inquisitive little self is definitely not easy.  
><em>

_I also have to admit that the number of 'Wow, this is a lot like _The Saffron Soul_' comments I was getting really put a damper on my spirit. Hopefully by the end of this little story everyone will see that it really isn't that similar. If not, they obviously haven't read it to the extent that I have. If you want me to systematically list all of the similarities and differences, I can. Constructive criticism is nice, but please stop mentioning the similarities already. They make me want to cry. /end slightly-peeved-mini-rant  
><em>

_This interlude is un-beta'ed. Why? Because I'm not going to bother my beta with a little 1500 word thing. _

_For my last note, I have a poll in my profile that I'd very much like if everyone took the time to vote on. Even if you don't review. The reason is: I'd like to know what I should focus on. _Rain_ is pretty much planned out; it just needs to be written. I'd like it if everyone would vote on what they'd like to see from me next so I can research accordingly._

_That's all for now!_

_AkizukiSakura_


	6. In Which Roy Learns Some Things

**Title: **_Rain_**  
>Author: <strong>_AkizukiSakura  
><em>**Pairing(s):**_ Roy/Ed  
><em>**Spoilers/Warnings: **_As far as I know, the spoilers are minimal. This diverges from both the manga and the anime, and I wouldn't be surprised if I get some facts wrong anyway (like the ages they were when each major even occurred). Also, this is __**YAOI**__. Don't like it, don't read it. Period._  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>_I do not own _Fullmetal Alchemist._ I make no monetary profit from the writing and posting of this, or any, fanfiction.__  
><em>**Notes: **_Hey, look! A real chapter!_

_Proser seems to be fairly busy this week so, for now, I'm posting this un-beta'd. I'll put up a clean, edited copy later._

**Chapter Five: **_In Which Roy Learns Things_

Edward was giving him an uncertain look – as well he should be, Roy thought, because what the blonde was suggesting was ludicrous. "Xerxes?" Roy questioned finally when it seemed that Ed wasn't going to elaborate any further. "You mean like… ruins?" he hedged cautiously, though he doubted that was the case. Ed wouldn't be giving him that strange look if he meant 'ruins'. Even so, Roy wanted to hear it from the blonde rather than jump to conclusions. Ed toyed idly with one of the buttons of the jacket draped over his shoulders and, despite the situation, Roy had to force his thoughts away from just how _good_ Ed looked wearing Roy's uniform jacket…even if it _was_ several sizes too large.

"Don't give me that naive bullshit," Ed growled, breaking into Roy's inappropriate thoughts. The words lacked the usual bite; from the way Ed was favoring his right foot as he paced, Roy had no doubt that the hot sand had not been kind to the younger man's flesh during their walk to this oasis. "I've been to the ruins of Xerxes before, remember?" Ed continued, either not knowing or not caring that Roy was staring closely at him. "It wasn't that long ago. _Those_," he emphasized with a pointed finger, "are not ruins." Ed hobbled over to Roy, grumbled, and flopped down on the relatively cool sand under the palm tree, having apparently tired of pacing. Roy cast a surreptitious glance at Ed's flesh foot and winced inwardly, noting the eye-smarting shade of red splashed over his heel and the ball of his foot. Typically, Ed was doing what he did best when he was injured: ignoring it.

Roy sighed and got up, fishing in his breast pocket for his handkerchief. "Forgive me for my ignorance, Fullmetal, but what you're suggesting…" Roy dipped the square of cloth in the water and wrung it out, glancing over his shoulder at the younger man. "Alchemists have been theorizing about the concept of time travel for who knows how long?" He turned and casually meandered back over to Ed, ignoring the puzzled look the blonde directed at the handkerchief.

"That's what _I _said when that nut-job suggested it, and yet, here we are," Ed retorted snippily, the sweep of his flesh arm encompassing the desert at large.

Roy was used to Ed's attitude under normal circumstances, but the constant belittling right now was getting on his nerves. He frowned at the blonde, opening his mouth to rebuke his subordinate for his behavior, and paused. Roy scrutinized Ed for a moment, noting the tightness to the younger alchemist's lips and the faint wrinkles at the corner of those bright amber eyes. Ed had always been tense, less so after restoring Alphonse, but Roy had the vague feeling that if he pushed the blonde over right now Ed would break. _He's in pain,_ Roy realized belatedly. _Likely that drug isn't as worn off as he's pretending._ Pursing his lips, he grabbed Ed's ankle and gently propped the burned foot on his thigh.

"What the fuck, Mustang?" Ed snapped predictably, complete with the insistent attempt to withdraw his foot; Roy simply tightened his grip on the blonde's ankle. "I don't need your damn coddl – ahhh!" Ed blanched and twitched involuntarily as the General pressed the wet cloth to his foot.

Roy fiddled with the 'kerchief until it covered the majority of Ed's foot and tied the ends rather sloppily, calmly ignoring the scorching glare Ed was currently gracing him with. "You should have said something about this earlier," he reprimanded Ed, knowing his anger showed and not caring. "We don't know where we are. For all you know, that city could be abandoned. We don't have any kind of medicine and the last thing _either _of us need is for you to get an infection." Roy was only slightly mollified when Ed shifted uncomfortably and appeared mildly chastised. After all, Roy _did _know burns. "Now, please continue your explanation; preferably _without _the insults to my intelligence."

Ed huffed predictably but some of the tension had leeched away with the application of the handkerchief on his burns. "If Dmitri hadn't explained it to me, I probably wouldn't have gotten it for a while," he admitted grudgingly. Roy knew it was all the apology he was going to get and gestured admittedly with some impatience, for Ed to continue. "A lot of it is theoretical bullshit, but the gist is that he's using something in my blood to forge a connection to the past and then amplifying his alchemy with a Philosopher's Stone to build a bridge."

Roy whistled faintly in surprise. "I'm shocked that it actually worked," he commented, watching Ed lean back on his palms and scratch idly at his nose. A flicker of jealousy snaked through Roy. Ed's complexion had always been golden. Part of it was his heritage, but the rest, as Roy well knew, was Ed's tendency to travel. Unlike Ed, who merely tanned a darker caramel color, Roy could feel the tell-tale tightness of his face that was the beginning of a nasty sunburn.

"If he didn't have the Stone, it wouldn't have worked at all," Ed replied, breaking into Roy's somewhat childish musings. There was a very pregnant pause before Ed added, quietly, "It probably still wouldn't have worked if Dad wasn't our father." Roy raised an eyebrow at Ed, asking silently for an explanation. Ed scowled darkly but obliged. "Think about it. All the Xerxians were wiped out except for Dad and that...thing, and we don't even know if that thing counts. Still, for Xerxian features to crop up in Amestrians, there must be _some _blood still flowing through people, however thin it may be. Traders and travelers probably carried a bit of it to Amestris before Xerxes was wiped out." Ed's hands clenched into fists in the sand. "But because Dad is a full-blood Xerxian, that makes Al and me half-blood, which is a lot more than any of the others running around Amestris."

"The murdered children," Roy realized, feeling vaguely ill. The feeling only intensified when Ed nodded affirmation. "So he did a bit of research, learned what the Xerxians looked like, and somehow came up with a Stone?" Roy puzzled through what he knew of the Stone and decided he _really _ didn't want to know how the man had come up with one. "For what purpose? Why come to the past at all?" He was surprised when Ed crossed his arms and his expression morphed into one of disdain. Roy recognized that look – Ed's upper lip only curled like that when he came across someone he truly thought was stupid. "Fullmetal?" he questioned after several moments of silence.

Ed rolled his eyes. "Fucker read more than just what Xerxians looked like," Ed sighed. He glanced in the direction of the city. "You don't know much about alchemical boosters, do you?" he asked Roy finally.

Roy raised an eyebrow at his subordinate's abrupt change of subject. "The military was working on synthetic boosters for a time. Before the Red Stone project," he clarified when Ed made a questioning noise. "Nearly everything they came up with was either toxic or had…unpleasant side effects. The Red Stone was the first – and only – amplifier that didn't really have any unwanted effects, if you discount the chances of a rebound. Why do you ask?"

"Well, Al and I chose the Philosopher's Stone as the most likely method to restore ourselves," Ed explained mildly. "But even then, we knew that there was a good chance it didn't exist. After all, there are plenty of myths and legends about things that never happened or never existed." He slanted his eyes at Roy and the older man had a sudden feeling of foreboding. "It seems Dmitri did the same thing, only he chose to focus on a different myth. Ever hear of something called the Fountain of Youth?"

Roy snorted in spite of the gravity of the situation. "Yes. I had a book of myths when I was a child. The Fountain that can cure all ills and grant the drinker immortality and eternal youth, right? It was one of my favorite stories when I was a child," he admitted.

"All myths and legends have some basis in fact," Ed said, his voice taking on a decidedly lecturing undertone. His expression suggested he was a little miffed at Roy's reaction. "I never paid much attention to it even as a kid." Then again, as children Ed and Al had been studying alchemy, so perhaps that wasn't surprising. "Dmitri had a scroll he said was from the time of the Xerxian kings. Since I was a bit _restrained_ at the time, I didn't exactly have a chance to examine it, but he read it out to me. From the way he talks, I think the Fountain was something like a natural Philosopher's Stone."

Roy pondered this information for several minutes. "So you think it's essentially a more potent version of the Red Water?" he asked finally. Ed nodded and shifted, then winced when his foot grazed the heavy wool of Roy's uniform trousers. Roy glanced down at Ed's foot and wordlessly untied the handkerchief. He walked back over to the water to re-wet the cloth. "That still doesn't explain why he wanted to come to the past, though I think I'm beginning to piece it together."

Ed hissed as Roy reapplied the handkerchief to his foot. "He said the 'key'," Roy noted with faint amusement that Ed used air quotes, "to the Fountain was in a Xerxian library held by the king," the blonde said, glancing once more at the city in the distance. "I'm guessing his goal was to go back and find the library and, eventually, the Fountain. He didn't say what he'd _do _with that kind of power. Probably take over the world or some shit. Seems to be a trend these days…"

"So, what do you suggest we do?" At Ed's incredulous look, Roy gave in to the temptation to roll his eyes. "Obviously you know more about Xerxes and this situation than I do. It'd be foolish of me to try and take command of a situation I know nothing about."

"Well, since it's getting dark, I _suggest _we camp here for the night. I don't think we want to wander around an unknown town at night." Ed gave him an appraising look that made Roy _very _uncomfortable. "If that's really Xerxes, I'll be fine, but you're going to stick out like a sore thumb." Ed picked up a handful of sand and sifted it through his fingers. His lips moved. Roy suspected he was testing its composition. From his frown, Roy guessed that Ed wasn't happy with it. "No usable minerals," the blonde muttered, dusting his hand off on his white trousers. "I was hoping to dye your hair."

"You wanted to - ?" Roy began in disbelief. "To what color? Blonde? I would look utterly ridiculous." The smirk on Ed's face said to Roy that Ed knew very well how silly Roy would look.

"It doesn't matter anyway," Ed said, his expression turning serious once more. "I can't do anything with _this._" He directed a glare at the sand momentarily, sighed, and looked at Roy again. "Oh well. The next best thing is to hide your hair as long as we can. Let me have your clothes." Out of everything Ed could have said, _that_ was definitely not what Roy was expecting. He opened his mouth to demand why and nearly choked on the unspoken words when Ed shrugged off Roy's military jacket and then promptly followed that with the white tank top and trousers. To Roy's relief – at least, he _hoped _it was relief – Ed left the white boxers alone. "See something you like?" Ed asked dryly and Roy realized he'd been staring. To his horror he felt a blush just grace his cheeks. Hopefully his sunburn hid the color.

"May I ask _why_ you want me to strip, Fullmetal?" Roy returned just as wryly. He was slightly placated when Ed gaped at him for several moments, obviously doing his best impressions of a fish. Roy expected Ed to be angry, but the blush that exploded over the younger man's cheeks was intriguing.

"Bastard!" Ed snapped, still flushed. "We obviously can't waltz into town dressed as we are. I'm going to transmute us new clothes, but I need all the material I can get, since _some _people are freakishly tall." Roy had guessed the reason for Ed's request, but the blush highlighting Ed's cheeks was worth invoking the blonde's ire. Smirking faintly, Roy began removing his clothing.

* * *

><p><em>Bastard,<em> Ed seethed inwardly as he set his tank top and trousers aside. He spared a moment to glare at the sand-stained white fabric. His thoughts invariably turned back to Dmitri and he clenched his fists unconsciously, hardly aware when Roy deposited his white button-up shirt on the pile of white cloth. Ed had dealt with plenty of madmen over the years, Father notwithstanding, but Dmitri was a whole new level of insane, not least because he had actually been _right_. Perhaps not about the Fountain, as that still remained to be seen, but Ed knew in his gut that he and Roy were no longer in present-day Amestris.

The soft _thump_ of heavy fabric hitting the sand cut through Ed's sour musings. He glanced at the pile of blue fabric and realized quite suddenly that Roy was essentially naked. It wouldn't have been a big deal if not for the fact that Ed had to actually look at Roy to ensure he got the man's measurements. He glanced at Roy and, predictably, began to blush. He knew Roy could tell, too, because the man was wearing that infuriatingly smug smirk again, but Ed did his best to ignore it.

"Why, Edward," Roy began teasingly, but Ed cut him off.

"I currently have your clothes at my mercy, asshole," Ed threatened, eyes flashing dangerously. "You _really_ want to finish that statement?" Roy's already pale complexion whitened noticeably and he shut up. Ed examined his superior in the fading daylight. Roy had a swimmer's build: Muscled upper body, tapered waist, lean thighs. It surprised Ed a little bit. Somehow he doubted most people would connect the _Flame _Alchemist with swimming. Thinking about the man's usually fluid movements, though, tapered that surprise somewhat.

Ed drummed his fingers on his thigh thoughtfully as he sorted through all the fabric at his disposal, ignoring the eyes he could feel on him. Most of the cloth, unsurprisingly, was blue. Luckily for the both of them, the military uniforms had a _lot_ of extra fabric. Ed clapped his hands together. Sparkling blue light arced outward from his palms, radiating in a flash of sparks and heat away from him. He noted distractedly that Roy had shaded his eyes as Ed wrestled with the complex arrays skittering through his head. Measurements melded with the circles in his mind as he directed the flow of energy into the cloth twitching at his fingertips.

Several minutes later Ed wiped the sweat from his brow and sat back to examine his handiwork, knowing that Roy was likely going to have a conniption when he saw what Ed had crafted. Without waiting for the General to examine the clothing too intently, Ed tossed a bundle of cloth to the older man. "Put that on," he instructed brusquely. "And before you start complaining, remember where – and when – we are." With that cryptic statement Ed turned away to afford the man some privacy and picked up his new clothing. Despite Ed's warning, a moment later he heard an incredulous sound from his superior, followed by a quiet curse word.

"Fullmetal…"

Ed tucked a fold of blue-trimmed white cloth at his hip and glanced over his shoulder, doing nothing to hide the wicked smile he knew was on his face. "Yes?" he asked innocently, not even flinching when Mustang glared at him.

"Since you're wearing this absurd garment, too, I can guess it isn't a joke, and while I shudder to think of where you learned how to wear one of these things properly, I must admit to my lack of education." The General's tone was one of both resignation and warning. Ed suspected that if he chose to ridicule Roy right now the bastard would find ways to make him regret it later.

Ed shook his head. "Since you asked so nicely." In Mustang's defense, wrapping a toga wasn't something easily done. He grabbed the fabric from Roy. "First, hold it horizontally like this, and wrap it around you." It was awkward for Ed to be helping a grown man dress himself, particularly because Roy was considerably taller than him. As Roy wrapped the long rectangle of cloth, Ed transmuted one of Roy's uniform ribbons into a safety pin to hold the garment. "Now throw the end over your shoulder," he instructed, showing Roy where to tuck the fabric. Then he handed Roy a blue wool cloak with a hood, fastened at the throat with a clasp transmuted from more of Roy's ribbons. For once Ed was glad Mustang had plenty of the fiddly little things. Now he and Roy looked alike except for a few variations – Roy's toga was only knee length whereas Ed's was ankle-length, and Ed's had sleeves on his to hide his automail.

While Mustang fiddled fussily with the fit of his new clothes, Ed transmuted Roy's boots into two pairs of lace-up sandals and took Roy's socks. Wearing Roy's dirty socks was not something Ed was looking forward too, but it was necessary; at least he'd been able to separate out the sweat and dirt. The cloaks were a little out of the time period, but they could always pretend to be from a different tribe, which would also help explain the changes Ed had to make to his outfit. He did not want to know what would happen if anyone happened to glimpse his automail. Ed tugged on a pair of plain white gloves as Roy examined himself.

"Here," Ed said when Roy gave no sign that he was going to stop anytime soon. Roy glanced up and took the gloves Ed offered him, surprised to find that one of them was one of his vellum gloves. "It was in your jacket pocket," Ed informed him.

"Hmm… I believe we have Lieutenant Hawkeye to thank for that," Roy remarked, rasping his fingertips together to produce a tiny spark.

Ed rolled his eyes. "Too bad you didn't think to do it yourself," Ed said, but there was little bite to his words. "I usually keep a few sticks of chalk sewn into my jacket," which had been Al's idea, actually, "but since that psycho decided I 'look better in white', I just have to hope we don't end up having to fight, or my automail will rip this flimsy silk to shreds." Ed's expression said clearly how shallow that hope was. "Anyway, it's going to get fucking cold tonight."

Roy glanced around the tiny oasis, frowning. "I can make fire, obviously, but it'll need fuel, and I don't see any." He plucked at his cloak. "Luckily this was my winter uniform, so it's wool, but it isn't very long." He directed a halfhearted glare at Ed's ankle-length toga and cloak, but Ed knew it was for show. Roy undoubtedly knew just as well as he did that his automail needed to be covered at all times.

"Well, we can either resign ourselves to a miserable night, or cuddle," Ed deadpanned. He was going for nonchalant but he knew his cheeks were heating again. Luckily darkness was fast approaching and his blush wasn't so easy to see. It was Roy's turn to roll his eyes but, surprisingly, the General didn't say anything at all. He merely sat down and opened his cloak, raising an eyebrow at Ed when he hesitated. Ed scowled and settled uncomfortably against Roy, shifting his cloak so that it covered their front while Roy's covered their back. After a few minutes it warmed considerably and Ed found himself relaxing in the heat and leaning unconsciously against Roy. Apparently Ed was more tired than he thought because before he knew it he had drifted off.

* * *

><p>Sunlight striking his eyelids woke Roy in a brusque manner that he was unaccustomed to; typically he drew the drapes in his bedroom before going to sleep. He opened his eyes reluctantly, squinting in the too-harsh sunlight. For a moment he was confused. Even leaving the curtains open, it shouldn't have been nearly as bright as it was. It was only when his eyes finally adjusted to the harsh light that he realized he was not in his bedroom. The endless sea of sand was certainly a big clue.<p>

The weight resting heavily against his right side was another indication that all was not as it should have been. Roy glanced in the direction of the oddity and stilled suddenly, eyes widening fractionally in disbelief.

Edward was sleeping next to him, his head resting innocuously on Roy's shoulder. Thinking on it, it was a miracle that they had maintained their positions the entire night. Roy knew for certain that he was usually an extremely restless sleeper. In spite of his best attempts to ignore the fact that his youngest subordinate was sleeping so innocently next to him, Roy couldn't help but examine the sleeping blonde. The Fullmetal Alchemist was a strong symbol of the Amestrian army. People respected and revered the young alchemist, even though Edward was barely sixteen years old.

Roy wondered what the people would think if they could see the terrifying People's Hero asleep like this: Ed scowled even in his sleep, but he looked considerably more relaxed in his sleep with his eyelashes splayed over his cheeks and his lips slightly parted. Roy realized with some surprise that he'd never before seen the Major look so vulnerable. Even with his arm blasted to bit, Ed had still somehow always managed to exude confidence and a cocky, in-your-face attitude. Roy found that, for the moment at least, he had no desire to antagonize Ed. He also realized with a slight wince that if Edward woke up and realized Roy had seen him like this, the blonde would likely turn volatile.

Carefully, Roy shifted away from Ed, gently lowering the young man to the sand so that he could sleep a little longer. God only knew how completely Fullmetal must have been to fall asleep so quickly, and Roy still had no idea what Ed had been drugged with. There were _dozens_ of drugs that had paralytic natures. For all Roy knew, Ed had been poisoned by this one, or it might have had an addicting nature to it; Roy had seen plenty of horrible drugs in his day. He grimaced as he got to his feet, realizing that the idea of Ed being poisoned affected his thoughts more than he would have liked to admit. Instead of dwelling on his feelings for his subordinate, Roy looked around for the sun. From its position, resting just over the horizon, it was early, probably not yet eight o'clock. Assuming, of course, it was still autumn. In the dessert, it was hard to tell.

Roy was splashing water on his face and wishing for a razor when he heard the tell-tale signs of Ed finally deciding to wake up. Guessing that Fullmetal probably wasn't much of a morning person, given the blonde's typical late nights, Roy wisely chose to say nothing while Ed stumbled blearily around. Ed didn't even acknowledge Roy's presence until after he'd relieved himself behind the tree and washed his face. Roy watched him covertly, observing that Ed was still limping noticeably.

Typically, Ed said nothing about his foot at all. "We need to get going," were his first words of the morning, spoken as he finger-combed his hair and pulled it up into a messy ponytail that was only slightly neater than his sleep-mussed hair had been. Though his words were sharp, he slanted a look at Roy that implied his statement had been more of a suggestion than an order. For whatever reason, Ed was actually choosing to acquiesce to Roy's superior knowledge when it came to desert survival.

Roy tucked his surprise behind a mask of indifference and got to his feet. Retrieving his cloak, he shook the sand out of the blue fabric and fastened it around his neck. Without waiting for Ed to remind him, he raised the hood to cover his dark hair. "Let's go, then," he replied neutrally, waiting for Ed to grab his cloak. Once Ed was ready, Roy gestured for him to lead the way. Ed gave him a suspicious look, hesitating, but in the end he shrugged and began to walk. The blonde's stride was conspicuously slower and shorter than usual and, surreptitiously, Roy matched it. Ed would never complain about his foot, and Roy knew if he brought it up Ed would only shoot down his concerns. At least this way he could keep Ed from overexerting himself.

"Have you any idea what we're going to do when we reach that city?" Roy asked after they'd been walking in complete silence for nearly half an hour. Even though the city had been visible, the distance was deceptively long, and the day was rapidly heating up.

Ed huffed faintly, as though irritated, but replied anyway. "Not really. Thought planning shit was your thing." There was a hint of a barb in the younger man's voice; no doubt Ed was alluding to Roy's constant reminders of how the older Elric tended to rush into things without thinking.

Roy ignored the sharpness of Ed's tone. "Under normal circumstances, that would be the case," he said calmly. "However, while I know more about the desert, I'm fairly certain you know more about the Xerxians." Ed glanced back at him, shock clearly evident on his angular features. Roy very rarely acknowledged the instances where Ed could claim superior intellect.

"I suppose," Ed said finally, obviously still surprised. He fell silent, but this time it was contemplative. He did not speak for ten minutes after that, but Roy recognized the pensive expression on the blonde's face and chose not to interrupt his thoughts. "…The best story we really have to go with is that we're travelers from another clan," Ed said slowly. "From what I remember reading, Xerxes had very little interaction with anyone else, but there were a number of merchants and caravans that occasionally came through." Ed glanced at Roy. "It's best to keep things vague. The more detail you put into a lie, the easier it is to find out. We can say we're from the east if asked. That would help describe your features."

Since Roy's mother actually _was_ Xingian, this idea was very sound. It wouldn't explain why he was traveling with Edward, who looked very much like a dessert-dweller, but it was at least a plausible excuse for his dark hair and darker eyes. "And what's the plan?" he asked conversationally, noting vaguely that the city was looming noticeably closer. "If the key to the Fountain is guarded by the king…?"

"It's in a library," Ed said, his tone dismissive. "How hard can it be to break into a _library_?"

* * *

><p>The city was an enormous, bustling conglomeration of locals, merchants, children, and animals. To Roy's surprise there were even a number of horses adding to the clutter of the streets. Roy didn't know much about Xerxes, though he supposed the horses could have been acquired through trade. As it was, those individuals who were mounted were very richly dressed and held themselves with the poise of old-blood aristocracy. It surprised Roy just how similar they were to Armstrong in that moment.<p>

On the outskirts of the city, the dessert had crept right up to the buildings and the dry breeze whipped up the fine particles of sand, stinging his eyes. As they drew further in, however, the sand gave way to grass and desert flowers. Roy vaguely recalled reading something about how Xerxes had been fairly fertile due to the yearly flooding of the large river that divided the city in half. When the river flooded, it brought with it deposits of nutrient-rich soil and provided much-needed water to the desert people. If Roy remembered correctly, the water was brought downstream from the mountains far, far to the north of the city.

He was garnering a few stares because of his hood, but he suspected it was more the color of his and Ed's cloaks than anything that drew whispered speculations. Most of the people milling about wore white or undyed togas. Color was limited to borders or stoles, and it seemed that more of the people who walked around with their noses in the air wore colors. Roy realized belatedly that dyes were considered luxury items. He glanced at Ed to gauge his companion's reaction and was only mildly surprised to realize that Ed wasn't paying any attention at all to the gawkers. It occurred to him that Ed was probably used to people staring at him.

"Do you actually know where you're going?" he asked Ed quietly. The last thing he wanted to do was draw attention due to their odd language. As it was, he had no idea what any of the merchants were yelling.

Ed glanced at him, briefly, before slowing his pace. He shook his head. "No idea," he murmured back, looking somewhat sheepish. He glanced around as they walked, obviously trying to spot some sort of indication as to where this fabled library would be.

Roy followed him in silence, more intent on not losing his subordinate than anything else. Ed was a very distinctive person in Amestris, with his golden hair and amber eyes, but here he would blend in too easily, blue cloak notwithstanding. The last thing Roy wanted to do was end up separated. Though Ed was searching the surrounding buildings, he seemed distracted for some reason. So intent on trying to puzzle out what was wrong with Ed, Roy didn't noticed the small toddler that ran out in front of him until it was almost too late.

It wouldn't have been such a big deal if not for the fact that the toddler, who appeared to be chasing a reed ball, had not run out into the path of a trotting horse. Roy, used to reading situations in an instant, immediately reached out, gloved hand snagging the back of the boy's toga and yanking him back and up into his arms just in time. The horse trotted by, the rider either oblivious to the fact that he'd nearly run over the child or simply not caring. Ed turned, having caught Roy's sudden movement, just as the child blinked up at Roy and reached up. Before Roy realized what he was doing, the little boy had grabbed at the silver pin holding his cloak closed and pulled on it, yanking it to his mouth with the clear intention of sucking on it.

The movement startled Roy, particularly when it immediately tugged his hood down. Hurriedly, he set the child down, groped for the hood, and pulled it back over his hair, but not before a number of people around them caught sight of him, including a woman who was apparently the boy's mother. The woman – a teenager, really – gathered up the child in her arms. She was scolding the boy, that much was obvious from her tone, though Roy still had no idea what she was saying. It might not have been overly troubling had the girl not retrieved his cloak pin from her son's wet fingers and offered it back to him, this time speaking directly to him. He stared at her blankly even as others who had seen him gathered around to gabble at him.

It was at that moment that Ed stepped in front of him, crossed his arms, and replied to the young woman in her language. Roy knew he was goggling in a most unattractive way at Ed, and he knew Ed was studiously ignoring him as he conversed with the locals. As Roy listened, though, he realized that Ed's speech was not nearly as smooth as the others', something they seemed to notice, for several of them wore suspicious expressions. One of them, a young man with short golden hair and bronze eyes was openly gesturing at Roy, his words sharp. Ed, arms still crossed, replied just as tartly. Roy recognized Ed's tone. He'd been on the receiving end of Ed's irritation enough times to realize when Ed was annoyed no matter what language he was speaking.

It took almost a quarter of an hour by Roy's estimate for Ed to both calm the locals down and manage to relax. It frustrated him that he had no idea what these people were saying, and it was even worse because he didn't understand Ed at all either. Finally, though, Ed raised a hand in farewell, reached back to grab Roy's hand, and pulled him out of the gaggle of people.

For several moments Roy was too flabbergasted by Ed's firm grip on his hand to say anything at all. It wasn't until they were standing outside what looked like some sort of inn that he managed to rein in his scattered thoughts enough to form a coherent sentence. "Since when do you speak Xerxian?" he demanded. It wasn't the only question on his mind, but it was the most pressing.

Ed half-turned to see him. "It's best to talk about it in private," he said, pointedly glaring at the people who were staring at them. Though Roy didn't like it, he gestured for Ed to lead onward. Ed rolled his eyes and turned back to the inn, disappearing into the building. With a sigh, Roy followed him. He said nothing at all as Ed spoke to a man who seemed to be the inn's proprietor. He even managed to keep his expression perfectly neutral when Ed pulled out a number of coins; they were obviously payment. The owner raised his eyebrows in clear surprise and bowed to Ed, leading them to a room. He and Ed exchanged a few more words before the man left them alone. Roy crossed his arms and stared at Ed expectantly.

"Tch. I didn't really speak Xerxian before today," Ed began, scowling when Roy made a disbelieving noise. "Shut up and let me explain or I'm not going to tell you," the blonde threatened irritably. "_Anyway_. A lot of dad's old books were written in Xerxian. Al and I learned how to read it, but we didn't know how to speak it at all; kind of hard if you've never heard it spoken before. I've been listening to the people ever since we got here. I'm not that good at it, but I can at least get us around."

When it seemed like Ed wasn't going to say anything else, Roy cleared his throat. "And the gold, Fullmetal?" he asked, putting a note of authority into his tone. As if in recognition of the fact that Roy had briefly stepped back into his role as a Brigadier General, Ed scowled. Even so, the frown fell a moment later and Roy could have sworn that Edward Elric actually looked somewhat ashamed.

"Picked the pockets of some of the people we passed," Ed muttered, obviously unhappy. "Just a coin here and there, and don't ask me where I learned it, you bastard! I feel bad enough as it is."

Roy released the breath he'd taken to berate his subordinate, letting a stern expression cross his face. "Just don't make a habit of it, Fullmetal," he said finally, smoothing a hand over his face with a sigh. With that taken care of, for the moment anyway, he looked around the room they'd been given. It was a decent size, though there was only one bed. A thick straw pallet lay near the hearth. Roy raised an eyebrow at it.

Ed seemed to read the question in his eyes. "Er," he began, suddenly looking nervous as he, too, glanced at the simple pallet.

Roy glanced at him sharply. Whenever Ed was anxious during his reports, it usually signified bad news. Somehow Roy doubted this was going to be any different. "Spit it out, Fullmetal," he ordered shortly.

"Well… They sort of…think that you're my slave," Ed mumbled. It took several long moments for Ed's words to sink in. When they did, Roy threw a furious glare at Ed, who raised his hands in the universal signal of _Calm the fuck down! _"Don't kill me yet, General Bastard," Ed said hastily, taking a step back at the expression on Roy's face. "Slavery is very much legal right now, and it's the best explanation as to why you're traveling with me."

"And what," Roy seethed, "gave you the idea that I would be all right with this?"

Ed cut him off before he could really work himself up. "One of the merchants asked me if you were mine," he said quickly, and to Roy's utter astonishment a blush spread across Ed's tanned cheeks. The implications of that statement were not lost on Roy. "They were already suspicious of you, so I told them I'd brought you from my home." Ed's golden stare took on a vaguely beseeching cast. "It calmed them right down, so at least it was worth it?" he tried.

Roy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. "I can't do anything about it now," he said. "In the future, however, I would _prefer_ that you at _least_ let me know before you make those kinds of statements." He watched as Ed nodded in response, sat down on the bed, and carefully unlaced his left sandal, pulling it and the sock off a moment later to examine his burned foot. Unsurprisingly, Roy noted, Ed's foot didn't look any better at all. Walking on it for nearly two hours in the heat probably hadn't done Ed any favors. He was lucky it hadn't blistered yet.

Luckily for Edward, the inn owner chose that moment to knock on the door. Roy opened it, accepting a tray of food and a pitcher of some sort of liquid from the man. A girl, probably a slave, bore a basin and another pitcher. She set her burdens down on the small table and left without a word. The innkeeper glanced at Roy, frowned, and said something to Edward. The blonde rolled his eyes skyward and replied with less hesitation than before, and to Roy's surprise his subordinate managed to put a note of haughtiness in his voice. The innkeeper bowed, though he was still frowning, and departed.

Roy set the tray of food down and sniffed cautiously at the contents of the pitchers. The one the girl had brought it contained water, presumably for washing up, and the one he had was clearly some type of wine. "He didn't seem pleased," Roy remarked casually, though he knew his tone wasn't as bland as he would have liked.

Ed flushed faintly and looked away, idly tugging his gloves off and tossing them aside. "He said your manners need work," the blonde replied. From Ed's tone, Roy surmised that whatever the man had said had likely not been as polite as Ed was making it out to be. "I told him, basically, to fuck off."

Roy shook his head as he poured some of the water into the basin and set it down on the floor. "Soak your foot in that to draw out some of the heat," he ordered.

"You know you're not actually my slave, right?" Ed asked after a moment. He was staring at Roy in surprise. Roy was not given over to coddling his men.

"Just do it, Fullmetal," Roy said, shaking his head. Ed grumbled something under his breath but, to Roy's relief, he did as he was told. Roy handed Ed a small bunch of grapes and a hunk of bread. He leaned against the table as Ed ate, helping himself to a handful of dates. "I don't suppose you learned anything about this library?" he asked. He was unsurprised when Ed shook his head.

"It's not a good idea to just start asking around about it," Ed replied, startling Roy. When had Ed become so perceptive? Ed, seeming to notice Roy's shock, glared at his superior. "After all those shit missions you sent me on, you really think I'm that stupid?" Ed snorted, picking grapes off the stems and popping them thoughtfully in his mouth.

Roy found himself momentarily distracted when Ed stuck a finger in his mouth and sucked the grape juice off. He almost missed Ed's continuation.

"If this library is _really_ all it's cracked up to be, two travelers wandering in and suddenly asking about it is bound to cause suspicion. I'm going to have to be careful." Roy opened his mouth at that, but Ed seemed to realize what he was about to say. "You don't speak Xerxian, and you're supposed to be a slave. How, exactly, do you expect to do anything here? Besides follow me around and look pretty, that is."

Roy bristled. "I'm not _useless_," he snapped, the comment coming out harsher than he'd intended.

"Yes, you are," Ed replied, but the faint amusement in his eyes belayed the insult. "I'm not just going to leave you here, you idiot. I'm not that stupid. Besides, even if you don't speak the language, you read people better than me."

The compliment from Ed shut Roy up more effectively than if Ed had taped his mouth closed. Ed was not prone to acknowledging his shortcomings. That he did so now said that, no matter how nonchalantly the blonde acted, Ed was worried.

That made _Roy _worry.

* * *

><p><em>"How odd," he remarked, chin braced lightly on his fist as he inclined his head ever-so-slightly to the side. To anyone else who observed him, he simply seemed bored. His posture gave no other indication that he was listening to someone standing in the shadows of a pillar just behind him.<em>

_The fact that travelers had come to the city wasn't exactly common, but neither was it really anything to remark upon under normal circumstances. However, the description of one of the travelers had caught his attention, something that his informant must have known when he'd brought the information._

_"How very odd…"_

* * *

><p><em>Word Count:7,300<em>

_AN: At least it didn't take almost two months this time, right? ...Right? Who am I kidding? I know the interlude was little more than a teaser for everyone, but I really wanted everyone to know that I haven't abandoned this story, nor do I _plan_ on it. It just happens that I'm starting the process known as 'throw shit out so I don't have to pack it', also known as 'donating to Goodwill'. Also, I know from experience that leaving the packing to the last minutes sucks, so I'm trying to spread it out – no small feat with my daughter trying her damnedest to walk._

_As it happens, I'm not really the kind of author who can set a specific date for a new update and have a chapter ready by then. I usually leave the chapter open on my computer and sit down to write whenever the urge strikes me and when I have the time. Usually this is during the short window that is my daughter's nap time, and sometimes once she's gone to bed – though typically, by then I'm so exhausted that I go to sleep, too._

_On the 'toga' thing: A bit of research, and a perusal of the FMA wiki, suggested that Xerxes was very much like Ancient Greece, hence my choice in dressing Roy and Ed. It has the added bonus in that I've never seen a story where they dress in such clothes, so there's a bit of originality for the grumblers out there. I should warn you all that I know very little about Ancient Greece, so any inaccuracies should be chalked up to the fact that this is fiction and Xerxes isn't _actually _Ancient Greece. It happens that I've drawn in a bit of Ancient Egypt as well, as some of you may have noticed. From the pictures I've seen of Xerxes, it was quite green and lush, so I gave it its own 'Nile River Valley', and I'm sticking to that._

_On the 'wool uniform' thing: I don't know about other military branches, but in the Navy we have two dress uniforms. We have dress whites, which everyone usually associates with sailors, and we have dress blues. The whites are a summer uniform, authorized roughly between May and September (depending on where you're stationed) and are made of linen. The dress blues are always authorized and are made of wool, making them ideal for cold weather. Since present-time Amestris was already headed into fall, Roy's uniform is wool._

_Also! I am co-writing a story with _Litai. _It's called **Traumerei**. Our writing styles are very different, and we're alternating writing the ch__apters, but the plot is interesting. It's the first time I've really written anything like it.  
><em>

_Finally, once again I ask that, if it isn't too much trouble, everyone please visit my profile and vote in my poll. That poll with help me decide what to work on next._

_Regards!_

_~AkizukiSakura_


	7. In Which There is Questionable Progress

**Title: **Rain  
><strong>Author: <strong>_AkizukiSakura  
><em>**Pairing(s):**_ Roy/Ed  
><em>**Spoilers/Warnings: **_As far as I know, the spoilers are minimal. This diverges from both the manga and the anime, and I wouldn't be surprised if I get some facts wrong anyway (like the ages they were when each major even occurred). Also, this is __**YAOI**__. Don't like it, don't read it. Period._  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>_I do not own _Fullmetal Alchemist._ I make no monetary profit from the writing and posting of this, or any, fanfiction.__  
><em>**Notes: **_I have recently switched from using MS Word to using Open Office. If there are any weird formatting issues, chalk it up to using a new program. Also, I recently spent a week or so watching all of Naruto and Naruto: Shippuden, so I've got Naruto and Gaara on the mind. Hopefully that won't effect the characterization of people in this fic too bad, despite all the GaaNaru plot bunnies running around in my head._

_Also, it appears I was a little vague last chapter. Edward cannot speak Xerxian flawlessly. He's spent enough time reading the language, plus a few hours of study in the Xerxian marketplace, and that allows him to communicate with the people. However, his accent is bad and he fumbles his words – he is _not _an expert. _

_This has NOT been beta'd. I figure I've kept y'all waiting so long that y'all will be all right with that. I did edit it an extra time, though, to make up for it._

**Chapter Six: **_In Which There is Questionable Progress  
><em>

_Why was it so _fucking _hot? It felt like he was on fire; like no amount of ice would ever quench the heat spreading rapidly over his skin. It was dark, and it was nothingness, and yet it was still so damn _hot. _He didn't understand it. There was no reason for him to be in this predicament. He moaned, fingers clenched in the fabric of his toga, pulling at the silk in an effort to yank the constricting cloth away. He had moved on to his boxers when a hand clamped around his wrist._

_He _whined_, the touch like a breath of cool air on his skin, and curled closer to the source of cold, trying to absorb more of that blissful chill. Why...? What was wrong with him...? He'd never... The coldness tried to withdraw and he was shocked to realize that the mewling sound he'd just heard had come from his lips._

"...metal."

_Something about that sounded familiar. Metal... What did he know about metal...? Well, wasn't it usually rather cold? Unless it'd been out in the sun all day. Thoughts of the sun caressed his mind gently, prodding his sluggish thoughts like a scientist prodded a reluctant lab rat._

"Full...?"

_That was an odd word to intrude in his torture. It wasn't a particularly frightening word, after all. The whole point of torture was to use fear and pain and psychological bullshit to... Oh. Maybe this was a _psychological_ thing, then...?_

"Fullmetal!"

Ed snapped awake, bolting upright and jerking sideways. He had a vague impression of a pale hand trying to catch his arm before his world tipped and he went sprawling on the floor, half-tangled in linen sheets. He drew in several harsh, shaky breaths, vaguely aware of sweat-soaked bangs plastered to his forehead. Dark hair and a concerned face hove into his view.

"Edward, are you all right?"

It took Ed longer than he would have liked to realize that _his_ name was Edward. The brunette – his brain scrabbled for several minutes before coming up with 'Mustang' – was watching him with an expression of mild confusion that was rapidly morphing into poorly-veiled concern. After several moments of heavy, sluggish thinking, Ed managed to nod. "M'fine. S'just hot, y'know?" His words were more slurred than he would have liked, particularly because now Mustang was looking downright _alarmed_.

"Here, let me help you..." Mustang said, reaching down and closing a large hand over Ed's bare wrist. As soon as his fingers glided along Ed's bare skin, the blonde jerked his wrist away, gold eyes widening at his superior in shock as he cradled his wrist. Mustang raised an eyebrow at him and held up his hands in the universal sign of 'never mind, then' and folded his arms instead. "No need to be testy, Fullmetal," he stated, and the concern was gone, replaced by something Ed couldn't identify. He ignored it in favor of working the sheets away from his bare stomach until he could wriggle out of the confining cocoon altogether.

"Sorry," the blonde muttered as he got slowly to his feet, rotating his automail arm at the shoulder idly. Now that he was awake, he realized that the room, contrary to the relentless heat of earlier, was actually quite cold.

His puzzlement must have shown because Roy paused in the act of retrieving the tangled sheets, quirking an eyebrow at him. "Bad dreams or something?" At Ed's adamant silence, Roy shook his head and dumped his burden on the bed, then settled on the thin mattress with a sigh. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Fullmetal. You've seen things most people can't even dream of. Hell, you've _done _things that would frighten the majority of the world's people." The unspoken _including me _weighed heavily in the following silence.

Ed rubbed his flesh arm self-consciously, though there was no warmth to be shared from his automail hand. "It's not that," he remarked, squatting next to the hearth to poke up the fire. Nighttime in the desert was _cold_. He hadn't noticed it last night because he'd been wrapped up in a cloak with Mustang, but sleeping without the toga had perhaps not been his best idea ever. "I was...hot." He ignored Mustang's smothered, amused cough. "Like I was burning up. Like I was on _fire_, but I wasn't actually _burning._" Ed padded quietly back over to the bed and sat beside his superior. Having shared a bed with him all night – Ed wasn't about to make Roy sleep on the floor, _Bastard General _or not – now was hardly the time to be self-conscious. Besides, the bed was at least six feet wide, thanks to the considerable amount of gold Ed had paid for the room. Even if _some _people were freakishly tall, there was plenty of room for the both of them.

"That sounds...odd," Roy mused, fingers rubbing together. Ed could tell from the absent way Roy did it that it was a subconscious gesture, rather like clicking a pen while thinking. "And that prompted your rather...violent awakening?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow at Ed.

The blonde shook his head. "No, it was something else. You tried to shake me awake, didn't you?" Both eyebrows raised now, Roy nodded. "It was really cold where you touched me. Like, not uncomfortably cold, but cold in a way that made the heat go away." He hesitated. "It did it again when you tried to help me up a little bit ago." Ed sighed, his gaze dropping to his hands, brows furrowed in puzzlement. "It was...strange."

"Has it happened before?" asked Roy, and Ed could tell from the man's tone that he was entering 'Brigadier General' mode. Despite how much Ed usually hated being lectured or worried over, he also knew that Mustang was a very capable alchemist whose mind was more brilliant than most people gave him credit for. To add gravity to the situation at hand, he and Mustang were stranded in some long-ago time with no one else to trust. It would benefit Edward greatly to tell his superior the truth.

With that in mind, Ed responded with a reluctant, "No, it hasn't. Not that I can remember, anyway." A beat. "And I don't feel hot anymore. If anything, it's cold as fuck now." The goosebumps rising along his flesh proved his point adequately enough. He ignored the way Roy was eyeing him contemplatively, moving to shift under the linen sheets once more. "It doesn't matter," he grumbled gruffly, scowling when Mustang opened his mouth to protest. "It _doesn't,_" he snapped, meeting those lacquer-black eyes fiercely. Just because it was more beneficial to tell Roy the truth didn't mean Ed had to deal with the man's coddling."Whatever it was, it's gone now. It's stupid to postulate without any data, and right now all I have is a single occurrence. For all I know, it was just part of the dream." The older man still looked skeptical, but Ed turned on his side, away from that penetrating stare. "Just go back to bed and quit worrying over nothing, Mustang," he muttered. "We still have to find that library."

For a moment there was silence and Ed's shoulders tensed, waiting for Mustang to keep trying to pry. Finally, with a sigh and the rustle of stiff sheets, his superior laid down, obviously preparing to go back to sleep. Ed had just relaxed marginally when Roy's voice cut the night air like a knife.

"When you feel like trusting me with what you really think, I'll be here to talk."

* * *

><p>Edward was hiding something from him. The blonde had always been a terrible liar, and the stress of the situation wasn't doing him any favors now. Almost every night since their arrival in Ancient Xerxes, Edward had awoken in the middle of the night and rarely was he able to go back to sleep. Despite Roy's disapproving scowls and pointed looks, however, the blonde refused to say anything about the occurrences. If not for the fact that Roy knew Ed was likely formulating a theory on his own, he might be angered by his subordinate's adamant refusal to share information. Roy crossed his arms over his cloak and leaned silently against the stucco facade of a pottery maker's shop, sharp eyes on Edward's golden ponytail. The younger man was engaged in idle conversation with a jeweler just across the stone-paved street but, despite the relaxed posture Edward sported, Roy could feel the underlying tension radiating from the younger alchemist.<p>

They had been in Xerxes for a little over two weeks now and Edward, with that infamous intellect of his, had managed to pick up more of the language in that short time frame than most could hope to learn in a lifetime. Roy's Xerxian was admittedly less polished, even with all of Ed's grudging tutoring, but for the sake of appearances he acted like he didn't understand anything anyone said. It wasn't that difficult, considering most of the conversations tended to go over his head, but he could at least tell when someone was talking directly to him – or about him.

For the moment, nothing interesting was happening around him and Ed was still engrossed in his conversation with the jeweler, so Roy allowed himself to examine the young blonde without fear of reproach. Initially he'd thought that Ed fit right in with the ancient Xerxians, appearance-wise, but gradually he noticed the subtle differences that were his mother's legacy: his diminutive height, slender build, and tapered fingers, to name a few. The amber eyes and straight nose were pure Xerxian, but his golden skin was considerably lighter and his hair bore just a hint of gilding from the sun as opposed to the all-over gold of the natives. The differences were subtle but noticeable with enough scrutiny. Roy wondered if any of the Xerxians had stared at Edward enough to see them.

Back home, the Elric brothers' fair hair and bronzed skin was enough to turn heads. Here, Roy found that the one garnering the most stares for foreign coloring was _him. _He wasn't sure he enjoyed the experience, and he subconsciously checked to be sure his hood was still covering his hair. The cloak made the heat almost unbearable, but it was better than being stared at.

"What's up with you?" The soft murmur broke into his thoughts and, somewhat startled, Roy blinked and found Edward standing in front of him. The effectiveness of his usually acidic glare was dulled significantly by the subtle signs of too many sleepless nights on his younger features. It almost made Roy wince in pity every day the smudges around his subordinate's eyes grew darker.

Despite Roy's concern, however, Edward was pricklier than a desert cactus to deal with, so he shoved the worry aside and shrugged casually. "Just thinking," he replied carelessly. "Find out anything useful?" The abrupt change in subject was nowhere near his usual finesse but, for the moment, Roy didn't care. Now was not the time to be antagonizing his short companion. They needed to get back to their own time before the higher-ups started asking questions that his staff could not answer.

The snort he received in reply indicated that Edward had not been fooled by his less-than-tactical change in subject but, surprisingly, the blonde let it go. "Not much yet," he replied, stretching his arms over his head with a faint sigh. His gloved left hand rose to rub his eyes and Roy found himself wishing he could find a way to force Ed to sleep. Ed was _always _reckless with his health, but spending so much time around him as the blonde continuously neglected his body's needs was different than occasionally seeing Ed in his office after a particularly grueling mission. "I have to let the subject of the library come up in a way that seems natural, and I can't do it often, or else people will get even more suspicious of us. So far, all I know is that the library hasn't ever actually been seen by anyone but the king."

"So we don't even know if this library even exists?" Roy frowned. _Great._

"Oh, I think it does. I didn't get any _direct _info from the jeweler, but I did get something interesting," Ed replied, making a subtle gesture for Roy to follow him. Intrigued, and a little suspicious, Roy followed the blonde as he wound his way through the market, faintly amused by the greetings several people called to Ed. The young alchemist might deny it, often, but Ed was the type of person who drew people like honey drew bees, despite his brusque personality and sharp words. His sharp intellect and inability to abide fools was tempered significantly by his huge heart and inherent desire to help others.

Ed led him to a gap between two buildings and slipped through. It wasn't quite like the alleys of Central, Roy decided as he followed, but it was close. Furthermore, it was private, which Roy gathered was the point. Though they were obviously alone, Ed still checked to make sure they weren't overheard. It didn't seem to matter to him that they spoke Amestrian; after all, Ed had picked up basic Xerxian rather quickly. Granted, he'd had prior knowledge to draw on, but there was no need to be careless.

"They don't have photographs here, so they paint portraits of important people," Ed explained quietly, slipping a hand to the leather pouch he'd taken to wearing on his sash. He withdrew two small oval-shaped pendants. "Apparently the king's birthday is coming up." He held up one pendant for Roy to see. The portrait showed a man in his prime with long blonde hair and dark gold eyes. His face was lined lightly, indicating that he might have just hit forty. Roy raised an eyebrow at the portrait. He didn't say anything, presuming that this had a point. Ed rolled his eyes. "This was painted about thirty years ago. I picked it up from a painter a few days ago," he explained. "It's customary to paint a new portrait of the ruler every year on their birthday. I got this one from a different shop." He raised the second portrait to Roy's scrutiny. At first, Roy didn't understand what Ed was getting at. Then he grabbed the palm-sized oval and brought it closer to his face. His mouth dropped open.

"This is the portrait for this year?" he asked, eyes flicking to his subordinate, who nodded. Roy stared at the picture. "He doesn't look like he's aged a day," he whispered, lightly tracing the faint wrinkles. This man, too, looked around forty.

Ed was quiet for several long moments, the silence between them broken only by the still audible sounds of the market. "From what I've gathered, the people are confused and scared because he doesn't look any older, but there's a rumor going around that this king is the physical manifestation of the head god of their pantheon," Ed said sourly, plucking idly at one of his gloves. "It sounds like a load of bullshit and propaganda, but that's people for you. Give 'em a bit of false information and watch their minds fill in the blanks." He grumbled something Roy didn't quite catch but, knowing Edward, it probably wasn't something flattering. Ed despised religion and hero-worship in all forms.

"In any case, this suggests that either the painter is trying to flatter the king, or the king found the Fountain." Roy ran a hand through his hair and offered the portrait back to Ed, who tucked them both back into his pouch. Ed crossed his arms and stared at Roy, clearly waiting for the older man's verdict. Roy frowned thoughtfully. "The easiest method would be simply _ask_ the king, but I somehow doubt that will go well."

"You think?" Ed snapped, fingers tightening on his arms. "I can _just_ see how _well _that will go. 'Hey, Your Majesty, we're from the future! Mind if we borrow some of your magic water to go home?' Either he'll think we're nuts, or he'll believe us. And considering what could happen, I'm not sure which would be worse. The last thing we need is some power-crazy monarch trying to conquer all of time and space or something equally stupid."

Roy raised both eyebrows this time, unable to keep the faint smile from quirking his lips. Ed's dry comments could be pretty funny, so long as they weren't directed at _him. _He cleared his throat to ensure his amusement wouldn't tint his voice; no need for Ed to think he was being laughed at. "In that case, we _could_ try infiltration," he mused. "If the king found the Fountain, I would assume that he has to actually go to it sometime to maintain his youth and, presumably, immortality."

"The only problem with that is there's no telling how often he has to visit the Fountain," Ed said, sighing irritably. "For all we knew, it's a once-in-a-decade thing. Since none of my, er, friends," he pointedly ignored Roy's smirk, "have seen it, I can only guess we'd have to watch the palace and follow them wherever they went, and we definitely don't have the manpower for that..."

They fell into a heavy, brooding silence. Roy noticed that Ed, unsurprisingly, was scowling, but the expression seemed darker than usual. He kept an eye on the younger man discretely, looking him over. It was several minutes before he came to a conclusion that made sense, though it startled and perhaps even scared him a little: Ed was _tired. _For as long as Roy had known Ed, he'd never seen his young Major so exhausted. It was more than just a lack of sleep; even his posture drooped, and Ed usually stood as straight as he could to offset his neglected height. Roy tipped his head back, letting his gaze shift upward to catch the occasional wispy cloud drifting across the sky.

Presumably, Edward was exhausted from being in this time period and his separation from Alphonse. That made sense in a completely logical way – if Ed was upset in any way, it usually had something to do with his younger brother. Furthermore, Ed was a very straightforward young man. Brilliant, but straightforward. Sneaking around and gathering information wasn't exactly his forte; so he was tired and frustrated. Roy supposed that could account for Ed's appearance right now, but something told him there was more to this story.

"We don't have time to sit around," Roy said when it seemed Ed had come no closer to a solution. He held up a hand to keep the blonde's protest unvoiced. "I'm not insulting you this time, Fullmetal. Like it or not, you're a prominent military figure. I wouldn't be surprised if the upper chain of command kept just as many tabs on you as they do on me. It's going to be hard enough to explain this to General Rush, much less to the _other_ Generals." Even Fuhrer Grumman, who _liked _Ed and Roy, would be unable to shield them from the potential ramifications.

Ed scowled up at him, eyes flashing, and Roy had the sudden, utterly inappropriate thought that the blonde was really quite stunning when he was angry. "If you've got any ideas, I'm listening," said angry blonde snapped at him. "It seems to me that all you do lately is criticize my plans, but I don't see you coming up with anything on your own. I've been _trying _to come up with something! What do you think I do every night–"

Roy's body moved before his mind caught up with what he was doing, and by then he'd already twisted to loom over the shorter man, a hand slamming into the wall by Ed's head. The blonde immediately shut up and pressed further against the wall, tired eyes widening in surprise and a bit of alarm.

* * *

><p>Ed had never seen Roy truly lose his temper, but if the way the Brigadier General's eyes were glittering down at him right now was any indication, he might have succeeded in doing just that. In spite of that, Ed was baffled enough by Roy's uncharacteristic display of anger that he didn't immediately shove the brunette away. They were both silent for several long moments before Roy chose to speak.<p>

"I suppose it would be too much to hope that you might _sleep _at night. If you think I haven't noticed that it gets worse with each night, you're sorely lacking in observational skills, Fullmetal." His tone was calm – deceptively so, Ed thought. Roy was the type of person that, the angrier he got, the softer he spoke. The half-whisper now was not promising, nor was his usage of Ed's codename. Still, at least Ed knew why his superior was upset, even if it was a stupid reason.

He crossed his arms somewhat defensively and huffed, looking away from that too-intense stare. "It's not like I do it to intentionally piss you off," he muttered irritably. "I have more important things to do with my time than play with you, unless you'd rather just stay here?" Striving for nonchalance, he shrugged. "Besides, maybe I'm just not tired. It's not like I sleep much at home."

"I'm not an idiot, Fullmetal," was Roy's growled reply. To Ed's surprise, Roy's free hand came up to lightly brush a gloved thumb over his face, sliding over his cheek to trace the dark smudges. "I'm not blind, either. I can see very clearly that you're tired. Try giving me the truth."

Anger sparked in Ed, crawling languidly down his spine to coil heatedly in his stomach. He raised a hand and curled it in the front of Roy's cloak, baring his teeth up at the older man. "I already told you what it is. It's none of your business how much I sleep anyway," he added, somewhat petulantly. Hurt flashed through Roy's gaze and Ed suppressed the guilt he could feel building. To his surprise, though, Roy didn't back off like he usually would. The look in the older man's eyes this time was completely unreadable.

Ed jumped as gloved fingers trailed down his cheek to grip his chin, tilting his face up. "None of my business, you say?" Roy asked quietly, his hand sliding up the wall so he could lean down a little, forearm resting flush against the stucco. "I don't think you understand how much it killed me to see you come back from those missions looking like you'd been run ragged. Of course, I didn't want you to know. It's one thing to deal with this in my office – it's completely different to _watch _you do this to yourself." Ed's breath caught and froze in his throat at that, particularly because Roy's slow shifting of his stance brought their faces closer together with each word.

"You–" Ed began, trying to sound angry, but he stopped when Roy merely gave him a_ look_. Suddenly his throat was very dry; much too dry to form the rest of the sentence.

"Maybe I just need to find some way of tiring you out so much that your only choice would be to sleep," Roy mused, and they were close enough now that Ed could feel the man's breath ghosting over his lips. Ed stared up at Roy, for once unable to come up with any sort of tart comment. He wanted to lick his lips, but Roy's were _so close _and Ed wasn't sure he was ready to act on his feelings. Aside from the fact that now was not exactly the ideal time, he wasn't sure he wanted to be another notch on the brunette's bedpost.

Swallowing, Ed flattened his palm on Roy's chest and gave him a gentle, but insistent push. Roy resisted for only a moment before he released Ed and backed off. Ed turned away, knowing he was blushing now and hating it. "You could have just said something before," he muttered uncomfortably. "Anyway, let's just go. Doubt I can get anything else out of the merchants today without looking suspicious.

He didn't look back as he emerged from between the buildings, blinking as bright sunlight assaulted his eyes once more. He knew Roy was following, mostly because he could feel the other man's eyes on him the whole time; it was like having an itch between his shoulder blades that he couldn't scratch, and he had to resist the impulse to turn and snap at the man to quit staring at him. Given what had just transpired, he was scared to even look at the older man.

The walk back to their inn was familiar enough that Ed was able to turn his body over to auto-pilot so that he could try to make some sense of the thoughts tumbling around in his head. Ed had seen people being intimate before, of course. Couples kissed on the street, at the train station, in restaurants; all over the place, really. Having Roy suddenly shift gears on him like that shouldn't have shaken him so badly – and yet it had. Ed was unaccustomed to anyone invading his personal space in such a manner. Though he desperately _wanted _to be angry about it, Ed couldn't quite bring himself to actually punch the older man.

If anything, he almost regretted pushing Roy away. After all, he'd only had a crush on the man for a while now... Ed didn't have the sort of reputation that Roy did, mostly because he hadn't ever been with anyone. Before, he was too focused on Alphonse to look ay anyone like that, and by the time he'd really started to think about relationships, he'd already learned that he wanted Roy. Knowing that, he'd never been able to bring himself to accept dinner invitations from anyone else.

It wasn't to say that he wished he had, but the last thing he wanted to do was kiss Roy Mustang and then be mocked for his inexperience, because then he really _would _punch the man. Probably with his right arm if it came to that.

He raised a hand in a lazy greeting to the innkeeper as they entered the building, though for once the man didn't acknowledge it. Ed slowed his footsteps, turning his attention to this anomaly. Ed wasn't a fool. The innkeeper wasn't precisely a friend, but Ed had spent enough money here that the man rarely ignored him. That he would, now, was troubling. A quick glance at his silent companion confirmed that Roy, too, had noticed. They said nothing, instead continuing across the room and into the hallway. Only when they were out of sight did Roy speak up.

"Something's not quite right," he murmured, tugging absently on his right glove; the ignition cloth rasped quietly with his movement. His posture, Ed noted approvingly, was relaxed, but his eyes were bright and wary. Ed knelt silently outside of their room, far enough from the door that he wouldn't cast a shadow through the space between floor and door. He glanced through the keyhole, searching for signs of movement in the room. There were none, but that meant nothing. He got to his feet, fishing the key from his pocket. If they couldn't see anyone, the best they could hope for was that at least they weren't being caught by surprise. He stuffed the key into the lock and twisted it; the tumblers dropped noisily into place. Not wanting any would-be assailants to think he was on to them, he immediately pushed the door open like he would have any other day.

A quick sweep of his eyes confirmed that the room was completely empty. While the room was not exactly small, it was square; there were no awkward corners to hide behind. Closets seemed nonexistent in this time period, the hearth was too small for anyone to hide in – though Ed still stuck his head inside to glance up the chimney – and a glance at Roy showed his superior checking under the bed. Roy shook his head in response to Ed's unvoiced question; there was no one in this room.

Ed got to his feet, dusting soot from his cloak and frowning. His instincts were shouting at him, and they had rarely ever been wrong. He held up a hand when Roy opened his mouth. The older man looked affronted that Ed would silence him but kept quiet all the same, obviously recognizing the calculating look on the blonde's face. Slowly, he scanned the room once more. The second look confirmed what the first had already indicated: there were no places in this room to hide. It frustrated him, but Ed was ready to admit that, for once, he might have been wrong.

Movement caught his attention. The shutters were open to allow light to spill into the room – glass was far more expensive in Xerxes – and Ed immediately dashed across the room, braced a hand on the sill, and propelled himself out of the window. "Wait!" he shouted in Xerxian, landing gracefully and taking off after the retreating figure. He was vaguely aware of the fact that Roy had followed him out the window with a muttered curse and was barely keeping up with Ed's punishing pace. Despite the gravity of the situation, Ed couldn't help the smug realization that he was in better running shape than Roy; the man had been riding a desk for too long.

* * *

><p>Ed was <em>fast<em>, Roy realized as he forced more energy into his strides to keep up with the younger man. Much faster than he'd been all those years ago when they'd had their battle assessment. Though the blonde was considerably shorter than Roy, right now it seemed as though Fullmetal was all legs from the way he ran. Roy found himself wishing he spent more time on the track; it was something of a hit to his ego to know the shorter man ran faster than him. If they ever got back to their own time – and provided he wasn't court-marshaled for dereliction of duty for vanishing without a trace – he was going to spend more time at the gym.

Thoughts of vanity aside, Roy wasn't entirely certain who they were chasing, or even if that person deserved to be chased. He watched incredulously as Edward leapt over a silk-draped palanquin borne by four slaves without so much as a by-your-leave; the nobleman inside poked his head out and began yelling but, thankfully, did nothing else. Where in the world did Ed get so much energy? Roy twisted around a merchant leading a string of horses, breathing harder than he would have liked and trying to keep his errant subordinate in sight.

Eventually they exited the marketplace, which made the chase simultaneously easier and harder. Easier, because there were considerably less people to dodge, but harder because their quarry seemed to know the area better than Ed or Roy – a fact that became immediately apparent when Edward skid to a halt a few minutes later, scowling, and glared around the area. Roy came to a stop a little more sedately, trying to be discrete about just how out of breath he was. Part of the reason was a desire to maintain his image in front of Edward, but the bigger part came from a feeling that they were being watched.

"Lost him," Ed grumbled quietly. The blonde was panting rather hard, too, but he didn't seem to notice his tiredness in light of having lost his quarry.

"Not surprising, given how little we know about this area," Roy replied just as softly. He spoke in Amestrian, taking his cue from Edward, but there was no need to advertise just how foreign they were. As it was, Roy's hood had long since fallen from his head, exposing his dark hair and pale skin to the world. He drew in a deep, steadying breath, noting that his heart rate was finally calming. "Any idea who he was?"

Ed glanced at him, apparently understanding what Roy was _really _asking. "No idea, but he was lingering outside our room, and he ran when I saw him. Only the guilty run like that." He blew out a long sigh, turning to observe their surroundings again. "Of course, I have no idea where we are now. Might be a while before we get–" The blonde leaped sharply to his left, just missing being run through by a well-thrown thrown javelin. The weapon landed point-first in the packed dirt, hard enough that the staff quivered long after impact.

"Only the guilty, hm?" Roy mused, looking around. Where they had been seemingly alone only moments ago, they were now surrounded by at least fifteen muscled, well-armed men clad in rough togas. Additionally, each man bore leather bracers and skirts for armor. Ed glanced at him, confused by his statement, and Roy smiled grimly. "Seems we ran right into a trap," he clarified.

From the expression on Ed's face, he didn't seem overly impressed by their apparent opposition. "You think we can't take 'em?" he asked incredulously, already shifting his weight. Roy recognized the stance; Ed was ready to defend, but he could shift to attacking any moment now. Immediately Roy reached out, clamping his hand tightly on the younger man's shoulder. Ed started and looked at him again, a question in his bright eyes.

"Wait a moment, Fullmetal," he ordered, allowing military authority to bolster his tone. Ed's eyes narrowed, as they often did when Roy gave him an order, and the way his muscles tensed indicated that Ed was considering disregarded this order. Roy tightened his grip. "You don't know what they want." Ed's gaze flicked meaningfully to the javelin buried in the dirt, but Roy shook his head. "Aside from that, they haven't attacked. I know a warning shot when I see it."

Although the men held their javelins such that it was obvious that they were not going to let Ed and Roy just walk away, they had also made no move to actually attack. Ed cast a dark glare at them but, slowly, Roy felt the blonde relax. He waited a moment to be sure Ed wasn't about to launch into a surprise attack before letting the younger alchemist go.

"For a slave, you seem to hold much sway over your master," commented a cultured voice from somewhere to their left. It took Roy a moment to puzzle out what the man – for male the voice was – had said, given that it had been in Xerxian, but he was at least familiar with most of the words. He turned to see the speaker, noting the Ed had grabbed the javelin and pulled it out of the dirt. The circle of guards around them stiffened, grips tightening on their own weapons, but Ed did little more than spin the hardened stake lazily in his right hand, a mocking gleam in his golden eyes as he sized up the speaker.

"Only an idiot ignores sound advice," Ed replied, also in Xerxian. Roy noted that, though he still stumbled over some of the words, Ed's Xerxian had improved tremendously. Despite that, it was painfully obvious that it was not his native language, something that the talkative guard seemed to notice immediately.

Looking at him now, Roy could see that this particular guard's uniform seemed to be made of linen rather than the rougher-woven cotton of the others. His javelin was tipped with copper, unlike the fire-hardened point of the one Ed currently held. A closer look showed that he was wearing some sort of gold pendant on a leather thong around his neck, and he also wore a beaten copper helm. Some sort of military leader, Roy gathered.

Seeming to notice Roy's scrutiny, the man smiled, inclining his head very slightly. He raised a hand to his men, who relaxed their postures. "It's not often we see newcomers to our city," the man commented lightly. "I am Seti. Pardon the rude manner of our meeting, but His Majesty is very interested in meeting you two." He paused, noting the glare on Ed's face, and his smile widened. "As his honorable guests, you understand." The addition did nothing to assuage Ed's expression; if anything, his scowl deepened.

Roy kept his expression a mask of polite confusion, as though he could not understand Seti, even as he worked to translate the man's words. It was slow going. Roy had never been very adept at other languages, particularly dead languages, and he'd only been working at this one for two weeks. Ed spoke up then, saying something that Roy didn't quite catch, and then those gold eyes were on him again.

"Should we go with them? I don't like how this _invitation _was extended, but..." he commented, deliberately raising his voice a little to highlight the fact that he was speaking Amestrian. Roy let a faintly approving smile curve his lips and noted with interest that Ed blushed faintly. He filed that knowledge away for later; perhaps their situation wasn't as hopeless as he'd first thought. As it was, now was not the time to be considering how to go forward with his increasingly serious flirtations.

"Our options are to either allow them to escort us to the king where we can try to decide whether he has stopped aging for ourselves, and perhaps have a look around the place, or we can fight off this group here, become wanted criminals, and still attempt to sneak into the palace later. As it is, I doubt they know what we are capable of, so if things go south, we shouldn't have to worry about whether we can escape or not." He noted the irritation that crept into Ed's expression and the faint tic that developed at the corner of his left eye and did his best to suppress a smirk at the younger man's expense. It really was too easy, even after all this time, to rile Edward up.

Ed clenched his fist, obviously wanting nothing more than to punch Roy. He restrained himself with visible difficulty. "All right, jackass, I get it. No need to be a bastard about it." The blonde crossed his arms, clearly still annoyed, and glared at Seti, swapping back to Xerxian. Roy only caught a handful of words this time, but he understood enough of them to know that Ed had agreed to accompany the man to his king. Ed and Roy fell into step just behind Seti and, to Roy's faint amusement and Ed's obvious distrust, the guards slid into formation around them. None of the armed men looked at either him or Ed, but Roy could tell that they weren't as relaxed as their expressions might have suggested. Roy found himself impressed, never mind that it felt more like they were prisoners than guests.

All in all, Roy thought as they were escorted along, things could be worse. Attempting to break into the palace and remain undetected long enough to find any information pertinent to the Fountain was a risky venture at best. While Ed could easily blend here – so long as he didn't have to display his shaky grip on Xerxian – Roy could not, and he had not been happy with the thought that Ed would be infiltrating the palace alone. At least this way they would be in the palace together, although the circumstances surrounding the invitation had yet to be revealed.

He glanced once more at Ed. The young man was frowning, as usual, and Roy found himself wishing he could do something about it. Given their circumstances, he could offer no words that would be reassuring. In the end he settled for resting a hand gently on his companion's left shoulder. Ed blinked, apparently startled out of his thoughts, and glanced first at the hand and then at Roy. His eyebrow quirked questioningly, but Roy merely smiled in what he hoped the blonde would realize was simply a reminder that he wasn't alone.

For a long time Ed merely stared at him, something like shock in his level amber eyes. After several tense moments the younger alchemist relaxed under his grip and gave Roy a tiny smile of his own. Roy squeezed his shoulder gently and let the blonde go, turning forward again in time to catch Seti's curious expression. Roy returned the stare with a blank one of his own until Seti shrugged and faced forward again.

Roy suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Despite the fact that they were hundreds of years in the past, it seemed that people here could be just as easily manipulated as those of his own time period. The language barrier would be a challenge, but Roy had always enjoyed a good challenge, and he rather suspected that Ed would have no qualms about it, either.

* * *

><p><em>Word Count: 7200<em>

_Hello, everyone! Welcome back, and I hope you enjoyed this latest installment of _Rain_! I know it was a long time coming (three-and-a-half months) but I hope it was worth the wait. A lot has been going on lately, and finding the time to sit down and write has been...troublesome. For those that care to know all about what's going on in real life to delay me, continue!_

_First, though, I want to thank everyone for their kind words and amazing reviews. Reading those reviews is what helps push me to continue writing. As it is, I think that _Rain_ is my longest story so far, and also the one with the most hits and reviews. When I first started writing this story, I had intended on answering all the reviews personally, but as time went on I realized that I just can't always do that. That being said, I want you all to know that I read every single review you leave me, and ninety-nine point nine percent of my reviews make me blush and squeal like a schoolgirl. I adore each and every one of you for taking the time to read this, and I especially am grateful to those of you who leave me feedback!_

_Now, the reasons (coughexcusescough)._

_I mentioned a chapter or two back that I was packing and getting ready to move. Happily enough, I've finished with that, so there's the first distraction out of the way. Currently I'm in Wisconsin with my in-laws, who were kind enough to offer me a place to stay while I go to school. My husband was supposed to go on deployment from mid-summer to just before Christmas, and I was going to stay here during that time and go to school and so on and so forth. Unfortunately, things have changed, and long story short, my husband is separating from the Navy. As you might guess, this puts a lot of strain on my time, as I now have to juggle school, my daughter, our finances (the economy still sucks) _and _trying to find a place to live, as we have decided to settle here in Wisconsin. So that's a big issue._

_Another big issue is just how difficult a time I had writing this chapter. I've never really had writer's block before; usually I'm just being lazy, or I'm busy with other things. For this chapter, however, I honestly could not get anything to flow. Even when I was finally able to write, I fear this chapter is sub-par, and for that I apologize. I kept trying, though, and I hope this humble offering will help assuage the thoughts that this story is abandoned – far from it._

_Lastly, for whatever reason, my computer causes issues with my in-laws network. Whenever it connects to the internet, none of their computers or other devices can. Since it's my computer causing the problem (and I'm not comfortable typing these stories on their computer, given their highly Christian ways), I have to connect my computer to my phone to stream my phone's internet to my computer, and it isn't always reliable. _

_All that aside, I know almost four months is a long time. It doesn't help in the slightest that I've found my OTP (One True Pairing; if you don't mind wasting a significant portion of your life, go to tvtropes . org and click around. It's as dangerous as Wikipedia, perhaps more so, and it tells all about OTPs), and unfortunately it is not Roy/Ed – though I still love this pairing very, very much. It was my very first yaoi pairing, after all. No, my OTP is Gaara/Naruto, and since I've spent a long time watching Naruto, I've sort of had them on the mind. Still, I refuse to leave any other stories abandoned, and I still plan on continuing with my plans for other FMA stories. I will just be adding Naruto stories to the mix, as well. _

_So, with all that explained, I hope that everyone will still support me as I tell this tale. One of my reviewers asked a question that I think others will be curious about, so I will answer it here: I had commented that I thought this story would only be about ten chapters. I don't know how true that still is. I can't see it going much farther than ten, but I don't know if it will be ten exactly. Rest assured that I will definitely do my best to resolve all the plot points._

_Kisses and hugs to you all!_

_~AkizukiSakura_


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